Nana was ninety years old and lived alone. She and her husband never had children; they always felt that they were enough. Nana had the same meals every day: bitter, Turkish coffee in the morning, which she would enjoy underneath the walnut tree, some vegetables for lunch, olive oil and homemade bread for dinner – her favorite. Nana lived through wars, the beginning of industrialization, and now, as she sipped her morning coffee, she glanced up. “I love you old man. The garden misses your touch; the house misses your presence and me…I’ve learned to love them without you around.”
Nana
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