“Days in the sun, what I’d give to relive just one” – Beauty and the Beast

Sometimes I lie in bed at night and as I close my eyes I can remember so clearly what it felt like to be in Idil. I can feel it. The familiar feeling of contentment and uncertainty. Never knowing what the next day would bring but safe in the knowledge that someone would always be there to share it, the good and the bad. It’s almost as if I’m reliving it, I can see myself waking up in my lime green bedroom, no rushing, no stressing. And then I wake up and look around, these aren’t the shocking citrus walls I remember and the view from the window isn’t the mountain range that I miss so much.

It’s true that we always think the grass is greener on the other side, we live life according to this set of clichés. We don’t know what we’ve got until it’s gone. Although I’m not one for clichés, I have to say I do believe both of these are true. As humans we seem physically incapable of appreciating what we have until we have the threat of losing it or we have already lost it.

I know that when I was in Idil I longed for the familiarity of my hometown, all I wanted was a car and the freedom of going to different towns every day. I missed my friends, I missed the local children’s festivals, I missed Christmas. Some days I didn’t have the strength to leave the house only to have people question the sadness that I couldn’t quite explain but that would be written all over my face. I’d spend those days scrolling through Facebook feeds, envious of those who were with their family and friends and home comforts.

For my first year in Idil, nobody tried to pull me out of these depressed days, when I felt better I would become part of the community again. After a year of being in Idil, a woman who I had been acquainted with became my best friend. It’s been nearly 2 years since we said goodbye to one another with tears caught in our throats, having totally lost the ability to form words to explain our distress at having to part. I spent most days with her and when she wasn’t around I felt lost. We would spend all day together, our children playing whilst we made tea, crocheted and chatted til the early hours. Without a doubt the best days of my life were spent on her balcony, clutching a çay and laughing til we cried. If a day went by and she hadn’t seen me, she would come to my house and make some sort of invitation that I couldn’t refuse. I will forever be grateful to this lady, she made my last two years in Idil absolutely perfect, I have memories that I will cherish forever but all the same, it just makes me miss it more.

When the time came to make the decision to leave İdil, something I thought I had wanted for so long, I felt completely torn in two. A decision that wasn’t taken lightly and had us agonizing over the correct route  to take. Then one night the decision was taken out of our hands, it simply wasn’t safe enough and the flights were booked. Five days to pack up our home of three years and say our goodbyes. It still feels so raw, there was no time for long, drawn out farewells, no time to see distant relatives and no time for it to sink in before we were packed and gone. I hope that someday soon we can return to visit and finally accept that our decision was the right one but until then I will continue to dream  of the place that I once called home, the place that still has a piece of my heart.