I was finally able to keep a promise I’d made to my son (who is 8) for years.
Even though he hasn’t seen much snow—perhaps he’s influenced by the movies, or maybe it has something to do with our surname—he loves playing in it. My promise was to take him somewhere we could play in the snow. For years, we couldn’t make this dream come true for various reasons. Finally, a few days ago, we achieved our goal in Kartepe, İzmit. We had a fun, tiring and thoroughly enjoyable time. In fact, with every snowball we threw at each other, it felt as if we were making up for lost years. And after the dozens of snowballs he threw at me, I finally understood why my son wanted to play in the snow with me so much. Because that’s the best part of a snowball fight: you get the chance to throw things at each other freely. You know it won’t hurt…
Anyway, after our enjoyable snowball adventure, we went shopping together.
That’s when the real show began…
I don’t know what other children are like, but my son really doesn’t enjoy shopping. He doesn’t even like going to buy toys himself, unless they’re a gift.
Our shopping trips usually go something like, “Dad, enough, come on, let’s go.” Once again, while he was saying, “Let’s go,” I was busy trying to buy him things, and of course we got hungry. If you’re shopping, there’s always a McDonald’s somewhere nearby, and as we looked around, thinking, “There’s nothing like McDonald’s ,” we spotted one and headed over. We ordered our food, and while we were eating, my son asked a crucial question that gave me a lot to think about. It was a simple question, but a very difficult one to explain…
My son, who sees McDonald’s ads all the time and is influenced by them, asked, “Dad, why don’t we have McDonald’s?” Now try explaining to a child, in a way he’ll understand, that the world doesn’t recognize us, and that’s why there’s no McDonald’s…
Of course, I could have answered this question in different ways: brushed it off, said, “You’ll understand when you’re older,” or turned the situation to my advantage by saying, “That’s even better, son. This food isn’t very healthy; we eat more healthily.” But I didn’t. I tried to explain how irrational the situation was. The more I tried to explain, the angrier I became at the governments of the world and those responsible for putting this child through it.
Then I thought of our older brothers, our fathers, our grandfathers, our aunts, our grandmothers, our mothers… What were they telling their children between 1963 and 1974? The more I thought about it, the more it hurt…
Then I thought about today, when the children of 1963/1974 have become mothers and fathers, and even grandparents. I asked myself what the children of those days are telling their own children and grandchildren today. It hurt even more…
After that, I tried not to think about what my son would tell his own child if this situation continued tomorrow—for the sake of my mental health.
I hope they’ll tell their children not about their country’s problems, but that the future will bring better days.