A little embarrassed my ebe used to tell the story: “As a dowry he pulled out a wad of yellow lira from a jug under his bed and gave it to your dad and said, ‘take any plot of land you want from the wetlands’.”

My ebe from Cemel worked all her life and without ever complaining. Boundless effort and compassion in the palms of her hands, she left this world behind and was gone.

*

I am very small. It is a summer afternoon. The kızılırmak is running through the center of town, babbling as it calls out to us. Keeping it a secret from mom, I go down to the river for a swim. It is one of those days when I keep my underpants on my head to dry before I get back home. I am walking with my head in clouds. As I pass the kaymakam’s residence a young woman leans a little over the balcony and asks:

“What’s that on your head?”

I hesitate for a moment … I think it is the kaymakam’s wife and so I need to say something. In almost a whisper, I say:

“My underpants.”

“But why are they wrapped around your head?”

“I swam in the river. And they have to dry before I get home. They dry out quickly in the sun. That’s why.”

I remember her flashing me a cheerful smile.

But I still wasn’t going to be able to hide the fact that I had once again gone for a swim in the river. A mere scratch of a nail would tell all: no matter what we did a thin layer of mud was always left on our bodies after a swim in the Kızılrımak and rinsing in tap water didn’t do the trick.

But this day was different. This time the trip to the river wasn’t a clandestine operation. Dad has taken me and my older brother swimming. Now we are sunning on the sandy shore. A hot breeze drifts over our faces. Most likely dad has recently read something in the paper about Vitamin D. He is telling us about the benefits. Scooping a handful of water out of the river, he sprinkles it over my back. Rubbing his hand over my head, he washes my hair. Water dripping from his hand is fractured in the sunlight as it falls over my face and my eyes. How lovely. This was one of those enchanting days in my childhood.

After dad passed away I brought his body to Avanos. With tears in my eyes I washed him in the gasılhane of the mosque just next to that spot where we swam together years ago. The sun wasn’t shining through the water falling from the palms of my hands.

I opened his hands and looked at the lines. I kissed those beautiful hands. Those hands that caressed me years ago.

*

Karşıyaka, Izmir. The air is heavy with the scent of magnolias and the sea. The pier is packed with life. I am wearing a thin shirt. Going to her work place. I go inside and stand silently beside her.