The holiday had come to an end; the time for idleness was over.
The sound of early alarms filled homes with a sweet rush of morning bustle.
Children slipped into their freshly pressed uniforms and packed their new notebooks and textbooks—still smelling of ink and paper—into their bags.
While mothers hurried to prepare lunchboxes, fathers wrestled with the morning traffic, trying to drop their kids off at school on time and maybe, if luck was on their side, find a parking spot.
Every household with children was swept up in the same morning whirlwind—this one included, though with a small difference.
Mehmet’s wife had gone abroad for work for a short while, leaving him to braid Zeynep’s long black hair with four ribbons—white, green, red, and black.
With patience and care, he tried to keep his daughter from getting fussy while he worked.
At the same time, he helped her pack the little souvenirs she had brought back from vacation to give to her friends.
The schoolyard buzzed with a chorus of voices.
Children’s laughter, teachers’ directions, parents snapping photos, and the occasional tear all blended together into one living, breathing hum of sound.
Some children squealed with excitement before bursting into giggles with their friends; others clung tightly to the hands of the adults beside them, standing quietly in the corner.
Then, the teachers began calling out class lists, starting with the upper grades.
“Zeynep Yılmaz!”
Hearing her name, Zeynep waved brightly to her father and ran toward her classroom.
Mehmet watched her go—like every father does—with hope and with worry.
Just then, a swallow darted across the sky, looping and gliding effortlessly.
“How can such a tiny bird have the strength to fly thousands of miles?” he murmured.
Under the same sky, somewhere else in the world, another father was watching a swallow too.
Can someone draw hope from a bird? he wondered.
“Maybe it carries a stone in its beak,” he sighed.
Then he called to the little girl lying on the ground—his only daughter.
“Come, my beautiful girl. My Aisha…”
There was a morning rush in their home too—but a different kind.
People spoke in hushed tones.
Children who should have been laughing had already aged in their eyes.
Small bodies, heavy gazes—eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the whole world.
Here, every child was missing a mother, a father—or both.
Some had already become the only grown-up left in the house.
Ahmed, Aisha’s father, gently combed his daughter’s beautiful hair—the way his wife once did.
Slowly, carefully, so it wouldn’t hurt.
He wove two ribbons, one red and one white, into her hair.
“My Aisha, you look so beautiful,” he said, wrapping her in a big embrace—once for himself, and once for his wife.
Then he watched his daughter run toward her friends, just as every father does—with hope and with worry.
And again, he saw the swallows.
With hope and with worry.
Since the beginning of humanity, Our greatest friend and enemy has remained the same: The person in the mirror...
"Experiential Design Teaching" is dedicated to help humans discover their true purpose. It guides people toward open consciousness to make better decisions and choices. It offers strategies for real solutions to real problems.
The programs that begin with “Who’s Who,” followed by “Mastery in Relationships” and “The Psychology of Success,” aim to help people become happier and more successful compared to their past selves.
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