A Mother Of No Destination May 2026

She opened her trunk. It wasn't filled with gold or heirlooms, but with thousands of small, smooth river stones. On each stone, a name was painted in delicate indigo ink—names of people who had been forgotten, travelers who never made it home, and souls who died with nowhere to go.

"A mother looks after her own," she whispered. "But who looks after those who belong nowhere? I carry them with me. As long as I am moving, they are still traveling. As long as I have no destination, they are never 'lost'—they are simply on their way." A Mother of No Destination

Elora looked at the horizon, where the sky and sea were indistinguishable. "Arrival is an ending," she said. "But love is a continuous road. I stayed a mother to the restless, and in doing so, I was never alone." She opened her trunk