The Heat of July

Many members of this grieving family eventually scattered, each migrating to different cities.
But on the eve of every holiday, they reunited at the grave of Gülten Hanım.
Her final wish had been simple yet heartfelt:
To be buried in the cemetery near the home where she was born and raised.
And her family fulfilled that wish.
Each visit brought new tears, though not like the tears of that first day.
Time had begun to scab over their wounds; the ache in their hearts had softened.
Still, from the windswept hill across from the home they once sold, they would look longingly at the house where they had once lived with joy.
Each of them, in silence, carried the same dream:
One day, Ill buy that house back.
Ill reclaim our childhood, our memories, and take them from the hands of strangers.
Their love for the past only grew stronger with time.
Yet none could bring themselves to make long-term plans for the future.
No matter what they did, life insisted on going on.
Everything, eventually, had to change.