The evening sky stretches out like a rug. Yellow glow filled every corner of the room. The squeak of a walnut on a tree branch in front of the room slowly quickly turned quiet. Leaving only one or two crickets in the distance. On that wooden branch, long ago, was a place where my children often spent time. Hanging like a person who is too good at clinging to a tree.
If it's not a full moon, sometimes they spend their twilight time just chatting with each other cheerfully throwing jokes while exchanging reading books. I'm getting lost in the memories that I created many times when my heart is often hit by longing. As a yellowish glow began to creep on the bed, setting it down along with the arrival of another, more eerie expanse, the night sky. The rustle of the wind drowned out the sobs that were barely audible, the ripples of the grass in front of the house also rattled and swung irregularly.
Rolling up my sleeves I walked over to the light switch. The point that fell on the wall of the cheek I immediately wiped so as not to immediately swell the river. The lights are turned on, my front door is wide open. The curtains that were not opened, I left them as they were. I don't want my lights to think I'm asleep so they don't come. I hastily arranged the food that was still steaming on the table that I had finished decorating. On the small shelf next to the dining table, I don't forget to drape the childhood memories of my light which again makes me unable to bear not just smiling and looking at him deeply.
I rubbed this small frame, kissed and caressed the little face with plump cheeks and black curly hair. Twinkle, and Echo. The elders of the land of Greenland who will eradicate evil and injustice. That's how they chattered when they were 7 years old at the time. My children who like to dream, fantasize, love to chatter cheerfully which no doubt makes me very excited and fascinated by the gleam of his bright eyes. A beauty inherited from his late father. "Sir, now our children are struggling to reach their dreams," I muttered, holding back tears.
I didn't realize it was 19.00 pm. I quickly rushed to prepare myself to meet them. I didn't want to be late for anything. I won't miss it. even a second of my time, even if only to look into his eyes one by one. The light that recently disturbed my sleep. The twinkle in his eyes that often makes me wake up at night, remembering how much I miss them, the fruit of love that his father has entrusted to me. And in that light, I see he who I miss half to death has been cured a little.
I look at this face in the mirror closely. Scanning every wrinkle that is opposite each other. These few months I have not taken care of myself, dry skin that is getting duller I leave it as it is. Day and night I'm just busy longing.
I sit at the wooden table by the window Sipping the lukewarm tea I made to accompany my happy day. I looked at it, sharpened the taller expanse of grass, mumbled to myself, and imagined them coming waving in the distance with a gleam of longing.
The more I fantasized the more I couldn't stand it. I stood up and paced back and forth like someone waiting for the graduation announcement. Every now and then I glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to be anxious about the preconceived notions that are increasingly filling my head. I then brushed it off, and again I convinced my heart to be more patient in waiting. I sat back down in the chair.
But apparently when the ticking time had shown exactly midnight, no one came. I've had three glasses of tea. I looked out the window with a view of the grass that was getting tangled in the wind. Stay strong waiting by draping a thick knit jacket to ward off the night wind that pierces the skin.
Until the cup of warm tea was flushed for the umpteenth time.
Until in the end, the dawn was ashamed to carve a glow. Her twinkle slowly creeps up, dazzling me along with my chaotic heart. I wipe the falling dots that I can't stop. Remembering the soft words in Voice note the other day "Mom, we will go home together to celebrate Mother's Day, sorry for not coming home even though it's only once a year, we hope you understand. Bye, Mom. I love you.."
Like barren land that awaits rain.
That's like I've never felt safe from longing. Hoping the time will come when everything will fall apart. Where the raindrops returned to the ground, scorched the yard of the heart that was very strong in waiting.
The End
