Orhan；　I　wasn’t　awkward　in　my　father’s　embrace；　like　a　fruit　unaccustomed　to

its　tree。　I　was　delighted；　I　recalled　how　my　father　and　I　would　often　embrace；

sniffing each other’s skin。 I was on the verge of tears； but restrained myself。

Though　I　hadn’t　planned　to　say　anything　of　the　sort；　I　said：

“e　now；　let’s　hear　you　call　Black　”Father。“”

The　night　was　so　cold　and　our　courtyard　was　so　very　silent。　In　the　distance

dogs　were　barking　and　howling　pitifully　and　sorrowfully。　A　few　more　minutes

passed。　The　silence　bloomed　and　spread　secretly　like　a　black　flower。

“All　right；　children；”　I　said　much　later。　“Let’s　go　inside　so　we　all　don’t　catch

cold　out　here。”

It　wasn’t　only　Black　and　I　who　felt　the　timidity　of　a　bride　and　groom　left

alone　after　the　wedding；　but　Hayriye　and　the　children；　all　of　us；　entered　our

home　hesitantly　as　though　it　were　the　darkened　house　of　a　stranger。　We　were

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met　with　the　smell　of　my　father’s　corpse；　but　nobody　seemed　to　be　aware　of

it。　We　silently　climbed　the　stairs；　and　the　shadows　cast　onto　the　ceiling　by　our

oil lamps； as always； spun and merged； now expanding； now shrinking； yet

seemed somehow to be doing so for the first time。 Upstairs； as we were

removing　our　shoes　in　the　hall；　Shevket　said：

“Before　I　go　to　sleep　can　I　kiss　my　grandfather’s　hand？”

“I　checked　in　on　him　ju