Last Night


It is my last night in Istanbul.

I am sitting with my best friend dunking chunk after chunk of sesame seed-studded bread into olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Drinking final glasses of cherry juice over our writing.

Realizing that I just went on my last fresh vegetable run through this familiar now-neighborhood.

That this is the last time I will look out these living room windows and gaze out onto the Bosphorus.

That there are people that I have had to say not just a temporary goodbye to, but realistically speaking, a “have a wonderful life.”

I am also realizing that though I may not be landing home having changed much physically and that the changes that have occurred this semester may not ever be noticed or acknowledged by anyone else, it has been a semester of enormous growth.

I ran my first marathon.

I had a few flirtatious encounters at the bazaars.

I mastered the art of banana soft serve.

I learned to enjoy fresh vegetables and fruits just as much as fresh bread and wine.

I, for the first time I can recall, let my self cry big, blubbering, completely embarrassing tears all over a friend and admit that, even I, little miss I-can-take-care-of-myself-thanks, needs to be held and reassured she is loved every once in a while.

It might not have been so perfectly Eat, Pray, Love as I envisioned, but

I truly

would not have had it






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