My Mom Is Waiting For Me

Translator: Meldanur Bilir Author: Zümra Babatürk

Illustrator: Berra Toparlı (10 years old)

Morning begins with sunlight filling every corner of the room.I think I hear birds chirping, or maybe it's a crackling folk song rising from an old radio.I'm not sure. Sometimes, sounds start playing on their own in this house.And sometimes, silence rises all the way up to my throat, like it's about to swallow me.There are paintings on the walls. In one of them, there's me, my younger self.Beside me, a man. I don’t know who he is, but his eyes look familiar.He’s smiling at me. I smile back. We look happy. Maybe we got married?Maybe he left too. Every morning, I wake up to the same faces. There’s a girl who always comes. She strokes my hair and makes tea. Her hands are as warm as a stove. But I don’t know who she is. I can’t remember her name either. Sometimes, her eyes well up. It’s like she’s speaking to me while stepping on something quietly broken inside. She asks, “How are you today?” And I ask, “Why did we come here?” Her face freezes. She softly says, “You’re home...” But I’m not. This isn’t my home. In my room, there were geraniums on the windowsill. There’s no scent of geraniums here. Only little lavender sachets hanging, maybe so I won’t forget. But I have forgotten. I’ve forgotten so much. Maybe I’ve forgotten everything.

They are keeping me here. But gently, with kindness and love. I have so many questions, but each time I reach a different answer. No one tells me anything clearly. And that makes me suspicious. Maybe I was kidnapped. Maybe all this kindness is just a show. They’ve taken me and hidden me here, in this unfamiliar room. This very polite man and woman act like they’re protecting me from something, but I can feel it… something is wrong. This warmth, this kindness – maybe it’s just an illusion. Last night, I saw my mother in a dream. She was holding my hand, and I was a child. She said to me, “Don’t stay there, Sevim. Come back home.” Sometimes, dreams show the truth. And I’ve made my decision. I’m going to run away. Today, the little girl – what was her name? Maybe Melis left her bag in the room. The key was inside. With trembling hands, I took it. I quietly went down the stairs. Each wooden step I touched felt like it was crying. I walked out the door.

The cold hit my face. The fresh air made my head spin. My feet began to walk, not knowing where they were going. I passed through a neighbourhood. It felt unfamiliar, but somehow the corner shop on the left looked familiar. Or maybe it was just a memory from the past. The mind… sometimes mixes the past and the present.As I was walking between fast, rushing cars, everything suddenly became blurry. A distant car sound, brakes… then a crash. Did my body fall to the ground? I don’t know. I felt lighter. The sky was spinning above my head.A man ran toward me. Young, panicked. He grabbed my hand. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” I opened my eyes. He looked at my wrist. It said: Sevim Yalçın – Alzheimer’s Patient. Relatives: Melis Yalçın (Daughter), Mert Yalçın (Son).So… it was all real. The things I forgot, the things I remembered, and the things I confused. My daughter… My husband… My home… The man was still saying something. But I wasn’t hearing his voice.

I was hearing my mother’s voice again.

“Come home now, Sevim…” I smiled. Parted my lips slightly. And whispered one final sentence: “I’m going home. My mother is waiting.”