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My first mother’s day

I used to always look at Mother’s Day from the other side, but now I stand in the middle. Right in the middle of my past and my future… And knowing that my past is with me helps me look to my future with confidence.

Unlike me, (I’ve always been good) my mother was very naughty when I was a child. The 1950s… An immigrant village in Kocaeli… Airplanes rained down newspapers spreading American propaganda on people. One of these papers got stuck in the upper branches of a tree. My mother fell from the tree and broke her arm when I tried to catch her before the other children. He had many operations on this arm. They shortened the bones because of a processing error and they fused badly. In the end, my mother’s arm became one of my favorite places because it was exclusive to my mother years later, which she would be afraid of being seen from the outside, forcing her to wear long sleeves throughout his youth.

My mother wasn’t mean, but she did well in school. After the end of primary school, the teachers came to the house saying “keep this girl educated”. That’s when this arm changed my mother’s life. Is it just my mother? Your brothers, your nephews, me, my sister… My grandmother convinced my grandfather: “Anyway, he can’t work efficiently in the fields with this arm”. And they sent my mother to boarding school in Ankara. Then it came at the end of law school. He took his brothers with him and tried to teach them as much as he could. The years I slept with my mother, I was not very young, I squeezed her arm and caressed her without knowing any of these stories. My mom probably wouldn’t even notice. What looked like a flaw from the outside would represent the perfect shape for me because it was different and unique to my mother.

When I look at my photos taken over the last six months… All of them have tired, slightly unconscious eyes and a big smile. That sums up my experience as a mother exactly. Motherhood was tiring with all its beauties. However, my mother was never tired. He would come home from work, tidy up, do the dirty laundry, cook all kinds of meals, help me with my Turkish and history homework (my father had math), then put me to sleep in his bosom. And not once will I hear you say “I’m tired”.

I’m going to start cooking a new meal with the extra food I made for Space. Even my wife usually does. However, my mother does miracles in the kitchen, in the blink of an eye. Once you take a tea, it brews four types of food until it is infused. And each one of them is the kind to make your fingers eat.

Although I know how to knit a little, I don’t know how to sew. However, my mother sews beautifully… I find the pattern and throw it to her. I peeked and it was on me with very fine stitching. Now on Space. Although I like to read books, I have only been able to devote very little time to them, especially since the birth of Space. While my mother finishes a novel every two or three days. For this reason, perhaps a bit of being a lawyer, his vocabulary is like an ocean.

I like gardening, or rather, I loved it. I’m just discovering something new. But I can’t do much except pull weeds, pick up stones that pollute the garden, hoe the bottom of young trees. Even as I pull the grass, I sometimes ask my mother, “Mom, is this harmful?” que… However, it is as if mother nature had incarnated herself in her, she knows all the plants. It makes a garden as if it came out of FarmVille: Lettuce on one side, cabbage on the other… Fresh garlic, onions… Tomatoes, peppers are always in order… Colorful flowers by the side of the road … Various fruit trees…

Sometimes life gets the better of me. So I close my eyes and squat in a corner. However, my mother always stands like a mountain in front of her, no matter how steep life is. And as he takes my hand, he pulls me out of the corner where I was crouching.

He writes beautiful poetry. He used to hold poetry exhibitions even though he has been offended lately. And it is very beautiful. Regardless of her age, she always shines the most in photos with her baby face. He is very compassionate. He treats everyone so sincerely and always the same. Lullabies are lullabies to me, even if she stops telling me now, my mother is a fragrant sheep.

I’m a little bit shy. If I try to speak in front of even three people I don’t know, my hands and feet will tangle with excitement. Still, I don’t give up, I don’t run from all my excitement, but I can’t stop my voice from shaking. However, my mother speaks with her confidence without changing her style, even if she has to speak to millions at once.

Maybe my voice isn’t shaking

But I say, maybe Space will see me like I see my mother. Maybe he doesn’t hear the moments when my voice quivers. Let’s say he heard it… I think my voice is going back and forth because the superhero cape that was flapping around my neck was pulling on my neck. Perhaps, like my mother’s arm that I love so much, many of my traits that I consider flaws are particularly valued by Uzay because they belong to me. And that’s how I squeeze my mother’s arm, caress it and sleep; he sleeps in my timidity. Besides, when the time comes and it’s my child, my shyness will disappear, maybe my voice won’t shake. Like my mother, I always sing my lullabies in the treble.

I know I’m just one of thousands of mothers who feel this way. On this occasion, I would like to congratulate all the mothers who sing their lullabies out loud without fear, even if their voice trembles while singing alone.

Source: Cumhuriyet

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