A little girl lived in a very small, but simple house on a hill. As she gets matured she started playing in the small garden and when she grew up she was able to see over the garden boundary and crossways the valley to a perfect house high on the hill. This house had golden windows, so golden and shiny that the little girl fantasized of how thrilling it would be to live and grow up in a house with golden windows instead of an average house like hers.
Even though she loved her parents and family, she still desired to live in such a golden house and fantasize all day long about how magnificent and sensational it would feel to live there.
When she gained enough skill and awareness to go outside her garden fence, she asked her mother if she could go out for a bicycle ride outside the gate, down the street. After she insisted, her mother gave her the permission to go, asserting that she remain closer to the house and didn’t roam too far.
That day was pleasant and the girl knew exactly where she was going, down the street and across the valley. She rode her bicycle until she got to the gate of the golden house.
As she reached she dismounted her bike and dropped it against the gate post. She focused on the path that lead to the house. She was upset as she realized all the windows were plain and rather dirty, there was nothing other than the sad negligence of the house that stood neglected.
She was so depressed that she decided not to go any farther and turned back heartbroken. As she look up she saw a vision that amazed her, across the way on her side of the mountain was a little home and its windows shimmered golden, as the sun stand out on her little home.
She understood that she had been living in her golden house and all the care and love she found there was what made her home the “golden house”.
All that glitter in not gold. Simple sparkle always shine.