April in Stillness

 

April arrived softly, almost unnoticed — a month caught between the stubborn chill of winter and the first sighs of spring. The city moved on, with occasional snow blizzards, as it always does, and I found myself watching more than participating. Time has a strange way of stretching here in Ankara, depending on how full or empty the days feel.

 

This month was quiet. One of the loudest things was a goodbye — another volunteer, someone who  had become part of my rhythm here, left for home. Their absence made more noise than their presence ever did. We shared small moments, side-glances of understanding when things felt off, laughter over dinner, the simple warmth of knowing someone else gets it. It's strange, how someone being gone can make a place feel less like it was ever yours to begin with.

With other volunteers, I visited Tulumtaş Cave one weekend — an ancient, earthy silence wrapped in dripping stones. It was beautiful, in that still, untouched way. It was a freezing cold day, being inside the cave felt oddly comforting. Outside, snow started falling once we left, and on the way home, through the bus windows, I saw for the first time heavy snow in April, which felt disorienting, as if I found myself in the wrong time of the year.

I tried cooking some Italian recipes, too, because deep down I’m starting to miss some sides of Italy. Lasagna, for my friends, which turned out wonderfully — layers of warmth and effort that came together better than expected. And pizza… not so much. But there was something honest in the failure. First tries rarely go right, and maybe that’s alright.

 

On April 23rd, I went to Anıtkabir for National Sovereignty and Children’s Day. The crowds were buzzing with celebration, children running free, laughter and voices echoing. I had waited so long to visit and maybe it was the perfect choice, visiting on that day – it felt solemn I stood in front of Atatürk’s tomb and tried to feel something deep. Pride, maybe. Reverence, for sure. Mostly, I felt like a visitor, unsure if I belonged in the moment or just beside it.

This month, I’ve realised I packed expectations into my suitcase and maybe forgot to leave room for reality. I wonder if I’m waiting for something to change, or simply for time to pass, ready for what comes next. Still, I stay. For now. Maybe to see how the story ends. Maybe just because I haven’t found the right way to leave. Not every chapter is exciting. Some just sit there — necessary bridges between better things.