Istanbul

I wanted to leave the moment we arrived.

I was 13 traveling with my mom and Clement. I didn’t like the way everyone seemed to be watching us. I didn’t like the aggressive salesmanship everywhere we went. I wasn’t a big fan of Turkish food. I didn’t enjoy not understanding what people were saying. I was on high alert the entire 3 days, ready to strike at the first sign of attack.

“I’m going to check out the Turkish bath,” my mom said one afternoon.

“By yourself?” I asked.

She nodded.

I told her I would stay in the hotel to watch TV. When she walked out of the door, I accepted that that was probably the last time I would ever see her.