{"id":2209,"date":"2022-06-20T01:44:41","date_gmt":"2022-06-20T01:44:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.sesdergisi.ca\/?p=2209"},"modified":"2023-08-19T00:18:36","modified_gmt":"2023-08-19T00:18:36","slug":"20-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sesdergisi.ca\/?p=2209","title":{"rendered":"20 YEARS"},"content":{"rendered":"<blockquote>\n<h3 style=\"text-align: right;\">Serif Aydin<\/h3>\n<p style=\"text-align: justify;\"><i>\u201cNo mother, no father, no brothers, just me in a strange crowd. While I was thinking of my loneliness, I saw other mothers kissing their kids and stepping away. It happened to me what I was afraid of. I started crying.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>My MOTHER WAS ALWAYS WRITING ME NOTES. She&#8217;d slip them into my bag whenever she left me somewhere. I never really understood the meaning behind those notes. I recall the first one was from my first day of school back in 1982. How old was I then, six or maybe younger? The playground buzzed with students, some hopping, others dashing about. Clutching my mother\u2019s hand, I watched as a teacher in a black suit formed lines in front of the school entrance. A sinking feeling washed over me, the realization that in just a few minutes, I&#8217;d be left alone. No mother, no father, no brothers; just me amidst this sea of unfamiliar faces. As the thought weighed on me, I saw other mothers peck their children&#8217;s cheeks and step away. My worst fears realized, tears welled up in my eyes.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, sweetie?\u201d my mother probed. I tried to reply, but words escaped me. Why do lips quiver before tears? Is it from having too much or too little to say?<\/p>\n<p>Only two words came out: \u201cDon\u2019t go!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ll be right here when you come out,\u201d she reassured.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo!\u201d My voice cracked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s OK. I\u2019ll be here,\u201d she promised.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat if I can\u2019t find you, Mom?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou will, sweetie. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd if I lose you, Mom?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou won\u2019t lose your mother, Joe,\u201d the teacher interjected.<\/p>\n<p>She tried to escort me to class, but I resisted.<\/p>\n<p>With a smile, my mother reached into her bag, pulling out a small envelope. \u201cListen, sweetie,\u201d she said. \u201cIf you ever miss me too much, open this.\u201d She dabbed away my tears with a tissue, enveloped me in a warm embrace, and bid me goodbye.<\/p>\n<p>Now, at 26, the memory is as vivid as ever. I can still see her retreating form, her hair dancing in the breeze. That was my mom.<\/p>\n<p>I waved with the envelope in hand, and then&#8230; nothing. No news of her for 20 years.<\/p>\n<p>All I remember is that I was a school beginner, still learning to read, still grappling with the world.<\/p>\n<p>Then, on March 21st, 2002, an envelope appeared in my mailbox.<\/p>\n<p>Should I open it?<\/p>\n<p>Could it be from my mother?<\/p>\n<p>Would this 20-year-long nightmare finally end?<\/p>\n<p>Questions swirled in my mind, seemingly without end. Hastily, I tore the envelope open.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis is the last message they\u2019re letting me send. Please send $. They\u2019ll kill me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Chills raced down my spine. &#8220;What should I do?&#8221; The thought of involving the police crossed my mind, but the fear of repercussions kept me hesitant. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I decided to sleep on it.<\/p>\n<p>The morning arrived without rest. Anxiety gnawed at me. This felt like some twisted movie plot. Why would anyone target my mom? Neither rich nor famous, what could they possibly want from me? But there was no time to speculate; action was needed. I hastily penned a reply, &#8220;How much? And by when?&#8221; and hoped for a response. Meanwhile, I studied the return address and set off to find it.<\/p>\n<p>After a lengthy drive, I arrived. Surprisingly, the address led to a quaint home. Everything about this seemed off. Why would they share an actual address? Lost in thought, I was jolted back to reality by blaring car horns. I quickly parked and cautiously approached the house. The home was deserted, save for a bag of flour with an attached note: \u201cIf you want to see your mother again, come to 178 Basketball Street!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Another drive brought me face to face with a foreboding building. Gritting my teeth, I pushed open its massive doors. There she was, my mother, flanked by a short middle-aged man in a mask.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDid you bring the money?\u201d His voice was eerily deep.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I murmured.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHand it over!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I hurled the bag to him, and he sprinted away. Overwhelmed with emotion, I rushed to embrace my mother. However, as I did, darkness slowly consumed my vision. My mother\u2019s voice grew distant, then louder and clearer, \u201cCome on, Joe, it\u2019s time to wake up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Blinking, I found myself back in familiar surroundings. \u201cWhere am I?\u201d I croaked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou dozed off during our chat. Must&#8217;ve been an exhausting day,\u201d she responded.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMom,\u201d I murmured, tears threatening, \u201cI just want to tell you&#8230; I LOVE YOU!\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Serif Aydin \u201cNo mother, no father, no brothers, just me in a strange crowd. While I was thinking<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2181,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[4],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v15.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>20 YEARS - SES MAGAZINE<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.sesdergisi.ca\/?p=2209\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"20 YEARS - SES MAGAZINE\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Serif Aydin \u201cNo mother, no father, no brothers, just me in a strange crowd. 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