Hello everyone,
In this article, I would like to share with you a small memory from my childhood. People used to help each other with their work around here. When someone's job was to be done, they would all come together and help. Here again, one day at noon, one gets out of bed before the sun rises in the morning. Faces are washed at dawn with ice-cold water left in the frost of the night and sleep is disturbed. By getting up so early, it is tried to catch the blessings of my day well. What is incredible is how alive the whole village is from the threshold in the early hours, when the doors open and people follow the person quickly. Someone who does not know at all will think that if that moment has come, he will be afraid and think that it is an extraordinary situation.
I would like to give my friends a pleasant and longing time by presenting sections from this day of solidarity that came from a short part of my childhood in the village and carried to the present day.
Harvest season has come. In the yellow heat, the neck of the ears was bent and covered with wheat. As our locals say, the sickles have been taken away and have already dropped them on the road. The first to come to the crop field have always been the elders. In the early hours of the morning, they went straight to the road and entered the rows of crops one after the other with their sickles and had already begun to pluck. The fact that they have started work for young people from behind is a separate source of motivation. It is the best recipe for them to increase their tempo, embrace the work with enthusiasm, and turn the processed parts into decks.
Young people like us, who do not know how to cultivate crops, would contribute to the elders by carrying out deck transport and raking operations behind the rows. During break times, we used to distribute cold water to the adults who rested with water jugs. Young people like us used to actively help their mothers in setting and clearing the table at mealtimes.
Therefore, since we are children, our favorite moments are the stories and events told by our grandparents after the helping person ends the dinner given in the evening. If I had my current mind, I would probably write all of them down in a notebook and turn them into a book that could be useful to young people in the future.
It is among my plans to turn what I remember vaguely from village stories into a book if I get the chance one day. Let's see what time will show us? Maybe we will spend our old age among these kindhearted people in our village again. Who knows, maybe we won't be able to reach that time. Life is not clear what will happen.
See you in our next nostalgic post, goodbye...