When I was six years old, my mom and dad got divorced. Honestly, it was a relief. Their common presence was far away from the joyful radiance of love. Our home vibrated with tension and I soaked it up.

The divorce brought me and my mom to my grandma’s home, we moved in with her. I loved it. We started living in Moda, my favorite neighborhood by the seaside. Mom started working again and I went to school. Two years later, my aunt moved in with us, too. Her newly wed husband had to go to the south of Turkey for two years to complete his military service. Back then the service was compulsory for men, you couldn’t buy yourself out of it and it lasted indeed that long. So she joined us. I loved our home even more.

As members of this female household, each of us had to show up and I counted in. I still remember the day when my mom gave me the house keys and showed me how to unlock the door to get in by myself. I was seven years old. Everyone was busy so it was impossible to have someone wait for my return from the school everyday to open the door for me. I was terribly scared the first time I stood alone in front of the door with the keys in my hand. And I was immensely glorious a few seconds later when I found myself inside all by myself. That day I grew up.

I was the little woman of our all female household. I was trusted with important responsibilities, such as setting up the table beautifully, ironing carefully without burns mind you, drying up the porcelain tableware gently. Sometimes they even let me vacuum clean which I loved. We had an orange colored, hand held, retro style Hoover vacuum cleaner. It was so much fun to walk over the carpet with it even though it was a little too heavy for my hand.

Not too much later I was also trusted with going to the supermarket for lightweight grocery shopping which required me to deal with money. I am grateful to a number of cashiers who honestly helped me manage that. I grew up more.

I stepped into early adolescence from the little womanhood alongside these three strong women. All I heard from them were “Of course you can do it Pinar, why couldn’t you?”, “You can never know if you don’t try it”, “Regret the things you did do, not those you didn’t”​ and “Here are the options and possible outcomes, decision is yours”. 

Twenty years later, voila, I threw myself into the world. ​No regrets.

The three women of my life grandly shaped who I am today in their own unique ways. My grandma taught me the importance of family, appreciation for beauty as well as love for life. My aunt opened up the whole world for me with her stories from the wonderlands. My mom taught me about courage, resilience and independence while maintaining a soft and gentle, feminine heart. ​

My mom, my aunt’s daughter and I are the last women standing in this all female household. With no children, the story ends when my cousin and I end. Or it doesn’t, because now you know.