As the weeks passed, Herimamy began to experience subtle but profound changes that no one around him seemed to notice. His gestures were calmer, his voice more measured, and his gaze more attentive to the details of daily life. He seemed to perceive hidden truths behind people's simplest behaviors: love, sadness, hope, or silent pain. He realized that every smile, every look, and every gesture held a world of stories and meanings. Herimamy understood that to understand his country and its people, he must first understand the people around him, and especially his family, the one who had shaped him since childhood.
One bright afternoon, as the sun bathed the rice paddies in a golden glow, Herimamy decided to visit his grandmother in the countryside. The road there was long and dusty, winding between lush green paddies and shady paths. The air was filled with subtle scents: the smell of damp earth after rain, the fragrance of banana leaves, and the sweet aroma of wildflowers. Each step along the path seemed to take him farther from the worries of the city and closer to his roots. He breathed deeply, feeling the air purify his weary mind and fill his heart with silent peace.
When Herimamy finally arrived in his grandmother's large garden, he found her sitting under the mango tree, her face lit by a warm smile, like the morning sun. Her eyes reflected the wisdom and experience of many years, and her simple gaze seemed to envelop Herimamy in unconditional love.
— " Welcome, Herimamy !" she exclaimed joyfully. "It's been a long time since I've seen you!"
— "Yes, Grandma," Herimamy replied respectfully, bowing slightly. "I came to visit you and learn from your words."
The grandmother took a deep breath, breathing in the fragrant air of the garden, and said calmly and wisely:
— "That's good, my child. Because if we don't listen to history, we are lost in the past. And if we are lost in the past, it is difficult to take responsibility for the future."
They both sat under the mango tree, surrounded by the rustling of leaves and the distant song of birds. Grandmother held out a basket filled with fresh oranges and honey, and they began to taste these sweets while chatting quietly. Then, in a calm but firm voice, she began to tell an ancient story, a story Herimamy had never heard before:
— "When your father was young," she said, "he went to other regions to defend our homeland. He did it not out of a thirst for war or glory, but out of love. He said he would rather die defending his country than live without honoring his heritage."
Herimamy remained silent, his mouth open. His father had never told him this story. Each word resonated within him like an echo from the past, revealing the greatness and depth of the family wisdom.
— "Why didn't he ever tell me about it?" asked Herimamy, his voice trembling with emotion.
The grandmother smiled, and in a gentle but firm tone, she replied:
— "Because, my child, true love is silent. It does not seek recognition or praise. It manifests itself through actions and through the heart. If you stand for something with sincerity and depth, you do not need to proclaim it to the world. Actions speak for themselves."
Herimamy felt a strange mixture in his heart: bittersweet pride and contemplative sadness. Pride, because he came from a courageous and patriotic lineage; sadness, because he realized that many young people today no longer understood the value of such sacrifices and silent virtues.
As he left his grandmother's house, his thoughts were filled with the strength and wisdom she had imparted to him : " True love is silent ." These words resonated within him like a mantra, a guide for his future life.
Back home in the evening, Herimamy approached his father's bedroom window and whispered:
— "Dad, my grandmother told me that you once defended the country. Is that true?"
The father looked at the stars shining in the sky and answered sincerely:
— "Yes, my son. But that's not the main thing. The main thing is that the patriotic spirit continues to live in you."
— "I didn't think you had such power, Dad," said Herimamy , admiringly.
— "It is not a power, my child," replied his father, "but a duty. When you become an adult, you will understand perfectly what the word 'homeland' means."
They remained there, silent, simply enveloped by the gentle breath of the night and the invisible voice of the past that seemed to speak to them through the wind. This moment, although silent, reinforced in Herimamy the conviction that family is the first school of love and patriotism .
That night, sitting in the soft light of a lamp, Herimamy wrote in his notebook:
Love of family is the first source of strength for love of country. If we do not love those who gave birth to us and raised us, how can we love an entire country?
As the days and weeks passed, Herimamy observed the relationships around him with a new sensitivity. He saw his parents working hard to provide for the family, and he understood the silent love that guided their actions. He began to help his mother with daily tasks, listen to her advice, and take careful care of his sister.
He also noticed that his interactions with his classmates had changed. He became more attentive to their needs, their sorrows, and their joys. He understood that family love was not just about biological ties, but that it taught patience, compassion, and respect —qualities essential for loving and serving one's country.
Every act of family love became for him a model of what responsibility, devotion, and respect for others meant. Herimamy realized that homeland begins with the family. : the values we learn at home – respect, solidarity, patience, love – are those we then extend to society and the entire country.
One afternoon, he accompanied his mother to the market to buy vegetables. He observed the interactions between vendors and customers, the way everyone tried to help each other, sometimes with simple smiles or kind words. He understood that the love and respect learned in the family were reflected in every social interaction.
Herimamy then made the decision to put family love into practice in his daily life. : helping his classmates at school, supporting younger people, listening to the advice of his elders, and passing on his family's values to those around him. He wrote in his notebook:
If love begins at home and in the family, it can grow into a love that embraces the community, the city, and the entire homeland. Family is the root of patriotism.
He felt he had a mission : to pass on this wisdom to the youth of his village . For he knew that without this solid foundation of family values and sincere love, it would be impossible to inspire others to respect and love their homeland.
This realization marked a turning point in his life. Herimamy understood that to become a true patriot, it was not enough to learn history or know traditions; one had to embody these values in everyday life, starting with the family . Family love thus became the foundation of patriotic action, the first lesson in serving one's country with sincerity and courage.
That night, before falling asleep, he wrote a final reflection in his notebook, summarizing everything he had understood:
Love for family is the first school of life. It teaches patience, respect, loyalty, and courage. If we cultivate this love, we can then cultivate love for our country and community. This is the starting point for all great deeds.
Thus, Herimamy finally understood that the greatness of a man begins in the heart of his family , and that every gesture of love and respect, however small, is a stone laid to build a better future, not only for oneself, but for an entire country. And from that moment on, he decided to put his heart, mind and strength at the service of his family, and by extension, his homeland .