Asking Someone's Daughter for a New Home

H, between all medical struggles with mum, had a merry decision. And very H'ly, she shared equally all the good times and rainbows as the heavy days we went through : I was insisted in being present in her "daughter-asking" ceremony!

As the very famous characther of my blog, she authorised her blurred photos to be here.

In where we live, the still living tradition involves the man that decides to get married with your daughter, to visit your home with his extended family to ask for  your daughter's hand... "by the order of God and by the agreement of the prophet" the famous cue says.

The ceremony involves : turkish coffee serving. By the bride-to-be. Cups of it.  Loads of it.

I enjoyed being a part of my rainbow girl's family on this very special occasion and taking pictures.

My H, she is uniquly able to be the beautiful rainbow even on the most grey days, with her colours, so unique and rich.

Deniz Was Here

The breakfast table was waiting for Deniz.

F and I, cousins, we were introduced to each other only 2 years ago, through our grand-aunt. So bizarre that we never met before although she studied at my brother's school and her sister at mine around same years.

Anyways, lately but still luckily we became friends and "nice surprise cousins" although she lives abroad.

Last year we organised a family gathering at my home, on F's arrival to Istanbul with her new-born Deniz.

And today they were back.

Chocolate and Deniz became very found to each other and D's tiny index finger was touching Chocolate's nostrils iside his ears to which it was ok with even happy of its new friend's existence.

I liked the particular way they were so gentle to each other.

Thomas though, dared to come downstairs only at his nap time, and I had the impression he was watching him over while he was sleeping defenseless.

We had a peaceful rainy day in together.

and were sure to miss this extraordinary kindness and friendship even at the moment of goodbyes.

The Cut, The Pain and The Words After

When the girls came to celebrate my new appartment last year, Rice was not yet able to speak. I love this picture I took then, at a hot late august day in 2008, Rice playing with my mess among the boxes.

Today I dressed a breakfast-picnic table in the garden for us.

It still surprises me to see my excitement when they arrive to my home. Rice was looking so sweet with her curly poney tails. She was as exciteted as I am. Until.. she cut her little finger with my special kids cuttlery's bunny knife.

Seing the blood she cried.. cried.. cried..

She was consolated that it will be ok and she will not feel the hurt soon.

She kept on crying saying it was not ok, not yet

It was a upset time for her. So she didn't allow me for a photo. But I can tell about her beutifully brushed hair, her cheeks innounded with tears, her eyes downwards and contracted by the plain truth of the pain, head backwards busy producing tears.

As she said " it is not ok, not yet", I saw some "me" in her.

So, I am sending a photo of her and her beloved little finger from the day of their first visit to my home.

I find there, this "some me" as well as the not so grown-up Rice then

And her words defying the consolation, her way to live the pain made me so close to her.