I am the author of three books by Nemat Metin. “Literature and the Mass”, “The Last Flight” and “The Invisibles”. I am currently writing a novel. My stories and articles have been published in many countries. My book was published in the form of a book in Turkey and South Azerbaijan.
FATHERS HEART
It is snowing
It is snowing
It is snowing
It is snowing
Black bread
White cheese
Red wine
It is snowing
It is snowing
It is snowing
It is snowing
( Adil Mirseyid)
It is winter night. In such a terrible weather even one wouldnt let his dog go outside. But the people were returning from work. The frost freezes the dreams you imagine. I blow the steam going out of my mouth cavity as the smoke of a cigarette. The snowflakes that are pressed under my feet harden and I hear funny sound. Crunchcrunch..
I take steps in the street covered with white snow which resembles me a white sheet. It is snowing so hard as if the time reduced its speed. Though even my eyelashes are covered with snow the scene in front of me brings calmness and warmth into my heart. I dont want to trample the smoothness that nobodys feet touched, I am ready to fly but not to break the beauty created by the nature.
The lights are again off. When I opened the gate and saw the bulb in the talvar I knew it. Oh, my God, the snow in the yard is knee deep. Not knowing that whether I should be survived till the tomorrow or not I approached the window of my house, and saw the silhouette of the candle light on the window. It appeared nobody fell asleep, they were waiting for me.
When I knocked on the door I heard the childrens voices. I entered the room. The children rushed at me and cast a glance at my hands. They became disappointed seeing that both of my hands reddened in the frost were empty.
Jeyran, Nazim, tomorrow I shall buy you everything you want. The shop was closed.
I was telling a lie. Simply my money was over. Among my plans for tomorrow there was the plan about from whom to borrow some money.
After I changed my clothes and had supper as if warmth soaked into my body. I decided to creep into my childrens favor and to play the role of good father. Just at that moment the light came back on. All of us cried Hurrah. Then we turned on TV and changed to the music channel. I danced with my children till we were tired.
My wife had already fallen asleep. Nazim was dozing on the sofa. Two fingers of his right hand were in his mouth. Jeyran never goes bed if we dont tell her a tale. Suddenly Jeyran asked me.
‘Father, why dont we have New Year Tree?
As if somebody hit my heart with a hammer. I didnt know what to say. From other side I couldnt keep silence. Finally I replied.
‘Tomorrow Santa Claus will bring us New Year Tree.
Jeyran closed her eyes as if she wished the next morning to come much earlier. After some minutes she was in the world of dreams.
I had promised my daughter. I had to have a New Year Tree. I had to find Turkish pine. I dont have money to buy New Year Tree from the shop. We arent Druid to hang gold apples from the branches of an oak-tree and celebrate winter holiday. I have to find Turkish pine. If the smell of a natural tree spreads in the room all of us would be cheerful.
I went out of the home. In the territory of the building where I work there are a lot of Turkish pines. Fortunately my work place was near our house. It is situated in fifteen minutes distance from our home. I was thinking to avoid from the eyes of the guards and enter the yard. I was anxious. For the first time in my life I was going to steal something. I crawled under the wire fences and headed towards the trees. Then I took meat-axe from my pocket and began to cut the tree near me. When the guards were approaching I stopped chopping. I was breathless because of fear. I breathed with my mouth. Though I didnt smoke I had become breathless. Because of anxiety and frost I couldnt breathe calmly. When a tree as big as me started to fall on me I didnt utter a word. I crept back to wire fence. While passing under the wire the hem of my trousers was caught by the wire. With difficulty I could escape from the wire. My knee was wounded.
I cursed my work place. It is like a dungeon.
On the way our home I was whistling with joy. I was so rejoiced even I didnt feel the frost. When I reached our gate not depending on myself I began to pray.
My God, thanks for everything! You didnt let me to be embarrassed at my children.
At home we repeated the same method which in 16th century somebody made up mind. We hang the fruits, sweets, toys from the branches of the tree.
Nemet METIN
