Last night I jumped three times over a fire smoldering on the sidewalk, buried a hastily scrawled wish into the ground by a single pink rose in the garden, and squeezed myself into the blue plastic seat of a swing set to celebrate the Turkish festival of Hıdrellez on May 5. Tara reminded me of it in her post on wishes, and after my husband told me the neighbor ladies were inviting me to participate in this annual ritual, I couldn’t resist leaving the house at midnight to honor the meeting of Hızır and Ilyas on earth along with two late-middle aged neighbors and two reluctant teen girls.
Were there traditions like this in America, they asked me?
The air was chilly and it was thrilling to think four women under the moon had the power to invoke their dreams to make them real.
Stay tuned for unabashedly explorative podcasts on the intersection of art and domesticity, excerpts of short fiction, and conversations held as part of Art is Dialogue, including Dialogue2010 hosted by expat+HAREM in late February. I hope you’ll listen along!