He was just staring at the ceiling with his eyes. After a good look and the sound of the outside cold prevailing in the house, the overflow of the water in the jug above the stove broke all this silence. He smiled and looked. He was quite weak. How many days he was at home. His friends would come and visit from time to time. He was very happy. On the other hand, he was sad. He was not used to longing. He had seen the expat, but he would never have lived that long. He looked towards his mother. It seemed to softly ask for something. He was lying on the sofa behind the stove. He didn’t like staying tied to the bed like that, but he didn’t have much strength to stand. He called to his mother. In fact, it was making no sound at all. His mother was always sitting next to him, rubbing his knees and feet. He kissed when they met eyes and tried to laugh. He was working because his heart could not hold. In order to increase his spirits, he would always go out of the kitchen or the room, cry quietly but biting his hands. Then he would wash his face, deal with the stove, or with his baby in swaddling, without catching eyes. Until the obvious tears in his eyes are gone.


Before he could say “mother”, his mother approached. He took his arm. He moved towards the window. The blue wooden was a glass. He remembered the first day it was made. He was gone when his father went to order an Armenian carpenter to order a frame.He had been insistent. His father also stroking his head and said “good, ok come”. When he went with him, he saw a blue window there. He could not take his eyes. The carpenter master noticed that he was looking at him. He approached him and said, “How beautiful. It makes people rest. It seems to be improving, ”he said. Then his father bought it. It was the same color when he arrived. The master said “I have a gift this color”. He loved to look from this window. The master said he was resting, he was healing. Perhaps he was waiting for him to “cure”.

Slowly, his mother sat down again. There was always silence at home. Sometimes the baby in swaddling, sometimes the chute of the stove, sometimes the storm outside would disturb the silence. His mother cooked a variety of food every day. she would bring him and try to feed him. He wouldn’t want anything. He could no longer drink the tea he loved so much. But every day his mother made fresh tea in teapots and waited by him. she kissed his feet again.she rubbed it. she stroked his head. He said, “Your nails are long, should I cut it?” He stood up in a hurry. He brought nail scissors and cut his nails. “I’ll take you to the barber tomorrow if you want,” he said. “Let’s go together. “Your uncles missed you so much,” he said. He shook his head and said no. He held his hands tightly. Other siblings in the house came. They went into his bed and hugged him. He loved his brothers very much, and his brothers loved him very much. He had a name for all of them. The feature of analogy and humor was very good.

There was a knock on the door. There was silence in the house. A little nervousness. They were afraid. Something like this had happened in the past.

His mother opened the door. His friends had come. His eyes glowed up suddenly. He tried to get up slightly but couldn’t do it . His friends would come and watch him every day and chat. More so they would tell. He would just look at them and listen with his eyes. Who knows what he was thinking. Did they live in the past, did they live, their aspirations? no one can guess.

Someone stole the saz. He laughed with his eyes. He shook his head slightly. He wanted water. His mother brought the water. The glass fell from his hand, his mother shouted. “Wake up, wake up, don’t go. Please dont go. Don’t leave me, ”he clung to him. He caressed his face and kissed him. He leaned towards his heart. “Please, please don’t stop,” he said. “Don’t take him too small, he was screaming.” He immediately took it in his lap and brought it to the blue glass.The master carpenter said so. he is HEALING… Desperately, he tore his head. He kept fighting. All of his friends were crying. Their younger brothers knew that something bad happened. So he was sitting quietly in the corner, crying, too. Such pain had taken the place of his initial pain from the bleeding of his knees.

The crowd increased. His father came in. He went to the city for him. The roads were closed due to the storm. He went and bought him the shirt that he could not buy for the holidays. He liked it very much. But there is poverty. Since he was a compassionate and humble person who thought of people before him, he cut the shirt he loved so much, saying “I don’t want”. His father had gone on the road on the winter of apocalypse and went to get that shirt.

It hurt to encounter what he feared from the crowd, voices and black clouds in front of the house. Includes entry. He took off the angular hat. He wiped his sweat. He was sweating on that cold day. He lit a cigarette. Everyone was looking at him. He lit his cigarette. Then he left the gift he received where he was lying. “I’m late. “I’m sorry” he said. He took his hand. He kissed. He brought it to his face. “Goodbye son,” he said. He cried for hours with his head between his two hands. It was destroyed. They knew, but accepting is beyond knowing.


Whenever we see a blue window, we stare. A little hope, a little bit offended like asking for an account. My mom remembers seeing other things in that window. He sees Ahmet there. I could not witness my father. He died a short time later, again on a winter day. He got his son.

Whenever I see a blue window, you come to my mind. To live is a little bit of hope.


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