I Cried On a Turkish Morning…

This morning I felt the crisp Turkish air and heard the sounds of stray wooden sticks scraping the ground without direction. The view overlooking the bridge of calm waters and slow traffic. It felt like Sunday at home.

A Sunday Morning in Turkey…

Sunday’s everyone takes their time getting out of bed and for a moment it seems that there is just a little peace in the world. After I let the air hit my face I listened to some blues music through my ipod. Listening to Norah Jones I picked up my husband’s shirt and socks. I do the small chores to make sure we are straight for when we fly.

Then while folding the clothes I ripped my fingernail. I hurried to look at the damage to see that there was no saving the remaining nail. The nail had then falling off and I stared at my hands. Pissed that now it there are long and short nails. Then I took a deeper look at my hands and the shapes of my fingernails.

All I could see was my mother hands. I suddenly missed her as if I would never speak to her again. I held my own hands because I figured that would be something she would do to comfort me. I have been traveling for the last year seeing the world and all it has to offer yet I long for home, I long for her.

Slow tears flooded my face as I folded the clothes and I wondered was she thinking of me too? The distance of these lands always makes the separation so real. I continued to fold and clean. Instead of viciously wiping my tears away I let go. I just let it happen. Sometimes you just have to cry a little.

Crying is not for the weak it is definitely for the strong. In life sometimes there just isn’t any other way to express what’s inside but through your eyes. As I packed the last of the clean shirts I felt better that I got to be in my moment of truth.

As I grabbed some tissues,Jay then called me to have a nice Turkish lunch. So I beat my face the best way I knew how, dressed, and proceeded to the door. Before I walked out I said in my head “love you mom”.

Thanks for listening…