To say the least, it was painful to write this post. I didn’t quite know what to say on finding the good in goodbye. And I still don’t. I’m still not sure what to make of the good in goodbye. Instead, I find the wonderful poet Mary Oliver’s words comforting.
To Longfellow, Fall means change, wisdom, an end and a beginning. A contradiction. Fall, he suggests, is a poignant reminder of our mortality.
“When I’m writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we’re capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness. I’m trying for that. But I’m also trying for the language.”
“The more cats you have, the longer you live. If you have a hundred cats, you’ll live ten times longer than if you have ten. Someday this will be discovered, and people will have a thousand cats and live forever.”
As a self-proclaimed hyphenated spirit, I’ve dedicated my life to exploring what it means to be home. Growing up in Turkey and living in Europe and the U.S. have brought me closer to finding an answer to the complex question of home. Or so I thought.
