Aunt Grace and the Companions of the Forest

Aunt Grace and the Companions of the Forest

It was during my stay in Europe that this unforgettable incident took place. I was visiting London and staying at my friend’s house. One morning, while we were sitting together, she suddenly said,

“Let’s go for a walk in the forest. I’ll show you something interesting.”

Startled, I looked at her. “In the forest? Oh no! I don’t want to go there. The thought of a lonely forest frightens me.”

She laughed softly. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I want you to meet my aunt. She lives there.”

“Aunt?” I asked in disbelief. “Did you say she lives in the forest?”

“Yes,” my friend replied, smiling at my expression. “She has a little house there. A few other people live nearby as well, but the houses are scattered. You’ll like her.”

I was not convinced, but out of politeness I agreed to go. We got into her car and drove for about an hour. Gradually the city disappeared behind us and tall, dark trees surrounded us on both sides. The deeper we went, the quieter it became. Finally, after a winding path, we arrived at a small cottage nestled among the trees.

“This is Aunt Grace’s home,” my friend said cheerfully as we stepped out.

We walked up to the cottage and pushed the little wooden gate. The place was so quiet that I almost felt we had entered another world. From inside the cottage, we could hear faint sounds of utensils clinking. My friend smiled knowingly.

“She’s making tea for us. I told her we were coming.”

Soon, a graceful elderly lady appeared from the kitchen. She was carrying a tray, and the warmth in her eyes instantly eased my nervousness. My friend introduced us.

“Aunt Grace, this is my friend from Pakistan.”

“Welcome, my darling,” Aunt Grace said, kissing me lightly on the cheek. There was such genuine affection in her gesture that I felt touched.

We sat in her cozy living room. Aunt Grace served us tea, biscuits, and some chocolate. As I sipped the hot tea, I glanced around the house. The cottage was neat, but the silence surrounding it gave me shivers. Outside, the dense forest stretched endlessly, and only a few cottages stood far apart. My friend had told me that sometimes hunters came to stay in these houses. Otherwise, most of them remained empty, guarded only by caretakers.

I could not imagine how this frail-looking, elderly woman could live here all alone. The thought itself made me uneasy. I finally asked,

“Aunt, do you really live here by yourself? Don’t you have children?”

She smiled gently. “Yes, I have two children. Both are married now and live with their families. They visit me sometimes, but most of the time I am here alone.”

Her calmness surprised me. I couldn’t help asking further. “But Aunt, don’t you get scared? I mean, if this house were in the city, living alone would not be strange. But here, in the middle of a forest, with silence everywhere… isn’t it frightening?”

She chuckled softly. “Oh dear, I am not alone. Many companions live with me.”

Before I could understand what she meant, she picked up a whistle from the table and motioned us toward the veranda. Curious, we followed her. She blew the whistle gently. Within moments, I saw a breathtaking sight—dozens of colorful birds fluttered down from the trees and settled on her shoulders, arms, and the railing.

“Here they are,” she said with a smile, stroking one bird lovingly. “These are my children. They eat with me, they talk to me, and they keep me company. See how many they are?”

She kissed the beak of a little bird as if it were her own baby. I stood speechless, marveling at the bond between this woman and her feathered companions.

She noticed my astonishment and continued, “Not only birds, but I also have two cats and two dogs. They, too, are part of my family.”

I was bewildered. How could someone live in such a lonely forest with only animals for company? Aunt Grace seemed to read my thoughts. She called softly, and two cats appeared quietly, rubbing themselves against her legs before sitting peacefully beside her.

“The dogs are probably wandering around right now,” she explained. “They will come soon.”

I asked hesitantly, “Aunt, don’t the cats and dogs fight with each other?”

She laughed again. “Oh, they used to fight in the beginning, of course. But I trained them with patience and love. Now they behave so well that if they even start quarreling, a single glance from me is enough. They immediately sit in their places quietly. They know my signals, and they obey.”

Her words amazed me. I thought to myself, it takes so much effort to discipline a human being, and here she had trained animals and birds to live in harmony under one roof.

This woman, whom I had first imagined as lonely and vulnerable, now appeared before me as strong, courageous, and content. She had discovered her own way of overcoming solitude. Where most people would have sunk into depression, she had created a little paradise of companionship with creatures of the forest.

When it was time to leave, I was reluctant. As we drove back through the forest, I kept thinking. We humans often fail to live happily even among our families, friends, and crowded cities. We constantly complain of loneliness, misunderstanding, and lack of love. And here was Aunt Grace, living deep inside a forest, with no human company most of the time, yet she was cheerful and fulfilled—thanks to the loyalty of birds, cats, and dogs.

That day I realized something important. Happiness is not about how many people surround us; it is about how we choose to live, how we open our hearts, and how we appreciate the companionship that God provides in different forms.

In this wide world, people live in many different ways. Some need bustling streets and large gatherings, while others, like Aunt Grace, need nothing more than the songs of birds and the affection of a few animals. God, in His wisdom, grants every soul a unique path to survive and to smile.

As the car rolled back toward the city, I silently prayed for Aunt Grace. May her forest companions always keep her company. And may we, too, learn to find joy in what we have, rather than lament over what we lack.