I took a trip back in time

I vaguely remember those days.

I lived in this magical place until the age of twelve. Then the journey appeared to me.

Years later, I came to the same place.

I took a trip back in time.

In front of our two-story house, the wind was blowing in the depths of the stream. While the water mill was grinding the corn behind the closed door, the sound of nature was taking me to other worlds even in my child world.

It was as if there was a magic, invisible hand that gathered everyone in it.

Dozens of people would come every day. My mother would set tables three or five times a day. There was always abundance on our table and love of life in our hearts.

There were also friends who came from far away. Boarding guests. For three or five days, maybe more...

What they would tell us until the morning!

Some had memories of their military service, some of their expatriate lives...

There was an uncle. He wasn't really our uncle, of course. He was one of my grandfather's friends. His nickname was Dayı. Some also called him Uncle Black. His skin color was a little dark. He would come to us once every three or four months. He had so many stories. He told them for years. It was as if each one was different from the other.

Suddenly the moon comes out. The street seems to straighten up with the glow of this dead light. The top of a tree appears black between tall brick chimneys.

Far away in a garden, two dogs bark together. The night is silent. It stands still.

The tops of the trees shiver with an inaudible wind. He looks at the treetops.

The black branches of leafless trees. A night bird bends a small branch beneath the big dark branches as it flies, and it happens in an instant. A white road stretches as far as the eye can see through the fields into the countryside. In time and space. At a certain point. His senses dulled by the constant thought of loss. He stands in the blackness, static and frightening. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything. The more he thinks he is suffering, the more he finds himself out of sadness. His unhappiness starts all over again. Those unfinished distances, the distance. His heart, which welcomed the pain in silence, feels that it has descended into the depths of suffering like entering a shelter. With the conviction of people who are calmed by solitude, he confusedly thinks that all the actions in his life are written on his fate, that there is only one moment to act. And he really wants to seize this moment. Otherwise this moment will pass and never return.

My grandfather used to go a lot too. That means my grandfather was going so much that there were so many people coming too.

Those who came and went were always honored.

My mother was a very strong woman. So many guests, so many smiling faces. One never gets tired.

I learned from her how to stay strong and resist the difficulties of life.

- Our guests are precious. Don't upset them! He used to say every time a guest came.

My siblings and I were in a hurry. How much we loved guests. And our guests loved us...

We listened to our mother's words with our ears. We never upset any of our guests.

All guests were precious in those days. We used to kneel at the feet of the elders and listen to their pleasant conversations.

So there were no bedtimes in those days like today's children.

Times are changing. The place is changing. Climates change and people change.

Years later, I started to travel from the same place. Excitement on one side and sadness on the other.

When man leaves nature, nature takes care of what man has done.

How different what I saw when I was twelve and what I saw when I was forty.

Those who left are gone.

My grandfather is gone.

The two-story house my grandfather built is gone.

My grandfather's friends are gone.

No twelve-year-old me.

Everything has changed.

Time is silent. Space is silent. And I am silent.