water on spring

mornings　with　freshly　drawn　well　water；　we　reentered　the　house　in　the　dead　of

night；　and　it　suddenly　seemed　that　the　elongated　shadows　we　were　casting　by

the　light　of　the　oil　lamp　belonged　to　others。　Most　frightening　of　all　was　the

horror　that　overcame　us　like　a　silent　act　of　piety；　as　we　solemnly　washed　his

bloodied face and changed his clothes so that I might deceive myself into

believing　that　my　father　had　died　at　his　appointed　time；　“Hand　me　his　sleeve

from　underneath；”　Hayriye　had　whispered　to　me。

As we removed his bloody clothes and undergarments； what aroused our

amazement and awe was the vitality and whitish color of my father’s skin

illuminated　by　candlelight。　Because　there　were　many　more　threatening　things

to frighten us； neither of us was shy about looking at my father’s sprawling

naked body covered with moles and wounds。 When Hayriye went back

upstairs to fetch clean undergarments and his green silk shirt； unable to

restrain myself； I looked down there and ed at

what I’d done。 After I’d dressed my father in fresh clothes and carefully

cleaned the blood off his neck； face and hair； I embraced him with all my

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strength； and burying my nose in his beard； I inhaled his scent and cried at

length。