The flowers on the mountain behind our apartment building are in full, gorgeous array.  Red poppies, cheerful white daisies, and a host of weeds that are just as pretty and colorful.  We had such plentiful rain this season that the greenery is deep and thick in vivid shades of jade and emerald.  Summer is coming.  Sandals with pretty painted toenails are appearing. The bicycle shops are lining up their goods on the sidewalks waiting for the sales that will be made, no doubt, to parents who find their willpower taken captive by such tiny terrorists.

Generally, this is my favorite time of year.  I get all jittery just waiting for the day that I can go to the nursery to choose the lucky plants that will no doubt die a cruel, prolonged death on my balcony.  I get out to the bazaar at least once a week for fresh strawberries and veggies for salads.  I have a plastered on smile, that is real…not botox, on the day that my sandals come out of the closet.  And, I get quite a thrill at line-hanging my laundry on the balcony.

This year will be out last spring, at least for awhile, in this amazing place. My spring is filled with thoughts of finding jobs and housing in America, thinking of ways to help our children assimilate into their “home” culture, selling a house-full of furniture, and, of course, goodbyes.

Our Turkish friends like long goodbyes.  This has always held me in wonder.  I hate goodbyes. I pretend that it isn’t happening, and then just say it once, and move on.  I think, looking back on our life, that I can see how I have even avoided close friends and family when I knew that there was an inevitable goodbye in the future.

The overwhelming response that we received when informing our Turkish friends of our upcoming move, was something like, “Oh!  We must get together A LOT before you go!  We must visit as much as possible before you move!”  We will be moving in one month, and have already started this process of the long goodbye.  Turks love to express that deep emotion that we often force down into our depths.

How will I stand it, you ask?  I am purposing to love every minute of these goodbyes and to treasure them always.  I am determined to have my camera ready, so that I can make scrapbooks for our children, and us, to remember this place that has so shaped our characters and held captive our hearts.

Well, I have gone and gushed all over all of you!  I am sure there will be a few more sugary posts in the near future as my emotions take in the swoops and swirls of this roller coaster ride.  I beg you to ride with me, and help me as I say my long goodbyes, that I might remember always.

Tash