Aynur Ehmet

Long, long ago, Aynur was still a little girl about as tall as a grapevine seedling. She loved to sneak to the entrance of the neighbor's vineyard when Father wasn't looking, blink her round eyes, and ask softly, "Auntie... the grapes smell so good... could you give me one to taste?" This trick never failed. Aynur always got a big, sweet grape. But every time Father caught her, she'd get scolded. The people around persuaded him: "Ah, what's the harm in losing one grape? Little Aynur beats our shoulders and rubs our legs, we'd even plant two more grapevines just to make her happy!" But her father frowned, grapes were the lifeblood of farmer families, not sweet snacks. How could she ask others for them casually? "If you're really craving... can't you eat our own grapes? Are the grapes your father grows not sweet enough?" "That's not it!" Aynur would whisper in protest, Father's grapes are the best. But... but Father and Brother guarded the grapevines all night making wine, whenever she saw their grapes, she thought they tasted of sweat, very bitter. Hearing this, Father could only sigh helplessly, apologized to everyone, and silently led Aynur back home. The next day, Aynur rubbed her eyes and pushed open the window to find a small, newly transplanted grapevine by their doorstep! This was a home grapevine planted just for her, not for making wine. From then on, Aynur would count the grapes on the vine every night before bed, calculating how many might ripen by morning. If one ripened, she'd eat it herself; if two, she'd share one with Brother; if three... four... then Father, Brother, and Aynur could each have one, and she'd bury one in the soil for Mother! This was a sweetness belonging solely to the family. That little grapevine by the doorstep, where did it go later? Later, it was gone.