M’s in nursery, T’s riding his bike and chasing a cat, there’s a chicken in the oven and the sun’s in the sky. In a few weeks, there’ll be a chicken in the oven, T will have his “big digger” back and M will be splashing in the pool. They’re little, and both of our worlds have beauty to offer them, and lives that they just take granted. Turkey or here, they see joy in both these places. So we won’t taste the tomatoes we planted here; alhamdulillah we have neighbours watering the plants back in Iznik. A tomatoe is a tomatoe wherever it’s planted.
I read once that we make the small decisions with our head and the big ones with our hearts, an approach the author advocated, but having spent the last decade or so doing just that it’s clear that the author was just a silly dreamer. Life doesn’t work like that it demands that you plan and yet rarely accommodates the plan that you make. Life redirects you and questions you and challenges your every move and for now it seems we don’t get to choose the path we’ll walk down, but we can control the narrative in it. We’ll pack up T’s bike in a suitcase and scatter M’s Lego into the gaps. We’ll go back to the life we left behind, leave this one as though from an extended holiday and immerse ourselves back into that world. Life is whatever we make it, and if we’re together we can make it ok.