I should think that the Istanbul ferries are not indestructible, and yet I can see right through this one, slicing through the Marmara in the night. And on a Sunday we also saw an old ferry no longer in use, pulled up to the dock, its seats in disarray, some missing, yet we heard glasses clinking. We gingerly climbed onboard the vessel and saw a group of friends having dinner in broad daylight, acting as if just being on this vessel was a sort of shelter. It doesn’t matter what you say you are ready for or not, just live.
Before I was born (just), he asked her to lie belly-up on the driveway to show how her shape resembled the Volkswagen Beetle’s. It wasn’t my fault – they hadn’t even seen my face – and yet years after I’d fallen in love with the picture and made it my own, she told me how uncomfortable it had been for her to do this while nine months pregnant, and anyway just for a laugh. I grew up trying my best – sports were fun but I’d have rather been in my room listening to the radio, and if anyone needed me I was there.
When no one’s within earshot, or anyway close enough, and it’s nighttime outside on the ferry, I sing “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” at my imaginary wedding, again, and this is when I am in a good mood. I used to do the same thing when I was a kid on top of the ski hill when I was pretty sure no one could hear. Then, it was “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys, and I also thought when I made it to the bottom/the other side, someone would swoop me up, proud of my beautiful, beautiful song.
Jamie Lynn Buehner lives on a small island outside Istanbul, where she teaches English at a private university.