It was a journey to another realm that didn't come to fruition

It was a snowy winter evening.

That evening, my brothers and I were again lined up around the floor table, eagerly awaiting our meal, and stacking the phyllo bread on our plate in front of us.

Since it was the weekend, my father wanted porridge, pickles both and for dinner every weekend. Since he was at home on the weekend, the food he wanted was prepared. That evening, the meal my father wanted came to the table, and while we were all waiting impatiently for my father to come to the table, my brother said:

"I don't eat porridge! I want another meal!" My mother was enraged when she said, grabbing her hot porridge and stroking my brother's face:

"So you don't like food, huh? Here's food!!" while it was being said. Meanwhile, my brother started to lick the food on his face, which was runny, in a confused state. He regretted what he said, but he ate the porridge. On the other hand, we had a laugh while looking at my mother in a stern sweat. He was threatening us with how many eye signs to say to us, "I'll show you tomorrow!" and beating us with his hard looks, but we were still laughing!

We were like dead winning the battle for life

resurrected in each other's bodies

It was a journey to another realm.

Ticket cut out for love!

Everything has its own math

which cannot be solved by four operations

It leads to the existence of the fifth process on the horizon of thought.

My mother's reaction to not liking the food was on our table. The table got mixed up, the food was spilled, the juice was scattered, our dinner had turned into a mess...

Of course, while my father's lack of food was another problem, we finished our meal with breakfast that evening at the reopened table, with my grandfather laughing and sweetening everything.

And my memory has never forgotten this sweet event dinner we had years ago, like other memories. When I get together with my siblings from time to time, this beautiful colorful moment is reminded of this event and we relive it with our laughter. When I reminded him of his place in heaven when my father was alive; “Your mother was right,” he says; That incident was a lesson to his brother against his contempt for the blessing!”

Where one is a slave, the other is a slave,

The love tournament between equals.

But where someone is a servant, it is necessary to play God.

I'm missing her

He is my surplus.

We were playing fill-in-the-blanks.

But every game had its end.

Sometimes game break

Sometimes we changed the rules

sometimes collusive

We fought each other.

Sometimes when I am very bad, I bring such memories to light and give myself a morale boost. And those beautiful memories are a hidden power for us to hold on to life.

Now, our house, where those beautiful people are not, is like a cradle of these memories, and it sways like an autumn branch, sometimes sweet and sometimes rainy, with the memory inside it... We, on the other hand, make a journey to the past with the wetness of the rain in our eyes and the sad smiles on our lips from time to time, under this memory.