Essasy: Snail

 Snail

        It was raining so heavily that I could not see the apartment standing in front of me, and its darkness fell on my soul every day.

        It was as if there was no next step. If I wasn't in the safe dryness of my house, how long would it take me outside to get wet to my underwear?

        After getting myself a coffee, I wanted to listen to the soft jazz melodies echoing in my empty hall. I didn't care too much when a snail caught my eye while pulling away from the balcony door; I was already starting to think about the pleasure of going to the kitchen and enjoying the smell of hot coffee.

While I was waiting for the machine to turn on and make the coffee, I thought of the coffee we had with my mother. I smiled.

        Although my mother loved the convenience of the machine, she had never been able to embrace its taste so much. “Easy way,” she said every time. Well of course it was. Since even the lowest level of the small stove remained hot in a copper coffee pot, it was not the enormous Turkish coffee that was cooked slowly by keeping it close to the closure. You know, it was the powder added to the hot water. Moreover, when you add milk and sugar to it, it is not possible to approach the splendor of the plain Turkish coffee that comes with Turkish delight.

        When I returned to the living room with the comparison of Turkish coffee and all other coffees in my mind, I was still grateful for the happiness of the taste that the cup I was holding in my hand would offer me. It would be annoying to be outside in that weather, walking around like a wet mouse.

        Winter had not yet come; It was summer rain. I didn't like summer rain. I mean, when you get wet in hot weather, and when you sweat because it's hot, something ridiculous happens. However, were the beautiful autumn rains that started when the weather got a little colder?

        Moreover, people would get cold... And they would be cold until they reached their bones. The coolness could make you flu the most, it's the only disease I love. What can replace the value of sneezing, the joy of a runny nose, and the mother soup you sip when you're under a blanket with the frustration of illness?

        I smiled again. I kept smiling at my thoughts like crazy. When I came back to my balcony door to look at the rain that did not stop after I went to my computer and wrote a little bit, this time I was surprised.

        I never knew if the snails were trying to escape the rain or if they were running into the rain. As soon as I realized that I didn't know, I wanted to research; But I blocked myself. Maybe this could have remained a great mystery of my life—for example, for two more hours—while a useless world of information was dancing inside my head.

        With my coffee in my hand, I was leaning my nose against the balcony door window, watching the snail. Then something happened. I started looking at him. I wanted to think it was a man; Although I remember they were androgynous... They were, weren't they?

        Anyway...

        It was a very nice brown blend. it continued with lines suitable for its curves, between a dark tone close to black and a light tone close to white. raindrops falling on it were not visible at some points. It was as if the drops were becoming transparent. But drops were flowing from such places that if you had said, "Show me the black rain," I could have shown you the black rain in the photograph that I could not take at that moment.

        Still, there was a problem. It stood motionless on the marble of my balcony, away from the brutal force of the rain, but in a spot where the splashing drops could not escape.

Raindrops falling on their antennae were causing the antennas to shorten and lengthen, increasing their height to almost six to seven inches. It was as if he had pulled his whole body out of his shell. His head was also slightly upturned, giving the impression that he was trying to stand still, like an ancient warrior blowing his battle horn.

        He was so male...

        As I continued to be fascinated by the magnificence of the snail standing outside, right in front of me, my nose against the glass, that thought struck my mind again. If those antennas weren't moving because of the rain hitting their antennas, I would think he was dead.

        Why wasn't he moving? Was he waiting for something? What was he waiting for? Was he enjoying the rainwater dripping on him? Was he wetting himself to prepare for the drought that would come with the heat to come? Was he motionless because he was thinking about something? Really... Could snails think?

        I took a deep breath and started to experience myself in the theories I had built about the snail in front of me.

        What did I expect? Someone? Him? What was I missing in this space of time where I stopped my life? Another breather at home? Could it be as illogical as inviting someone into your life just to avoid being alone? Was there any sense in inviting someone into your life just so you wouldn't be alone?

I've been alone since my mom left. My dad was gone first. It was the two of us then. There was no hassle. Now my mom...

        I was questioning everything. What binds me to where I am, what I can't give up, the benefits of loneliness...

        But among all the questions, I couldn't help myself from getting stuck with the things I couldn't give up. While my eyes were still on the snail, which hadn't moved, I divided the table of things I couldn't give up into two groups. On one, I had things that I could not leave financially, and on the other, spiritual. What could I have left financially? Of course, the house where we lived with my mom... Each corner contained a lot of memories, a lot of smells, and a lot of emotions.

        What about the rest?

        The other two houses whose addresses I only know, the car... I could have easily left. But could I leave my parents' graves alone? How long could I stay away without visiting them, watering their flowers, and not taking care of them every month? What could I give up spiritually? Wouldn't all my spiritual essentials be with me wherever I go? Or did all that spirituality come from ties that were material? If it was out of sight, would it be out of the heart?

        My eyes went back to the snail. What was he waiting for? Was it a sacrifice he was making now, to save himself?

        I decided to take a gamble. I would continue to watch the snail. Now I had the freedom to entrust my own life to the unknown nature of a snail. I was just a loner responsible for myself. I could do such a blunder - at least I could think of doing it. 

        I pulled a chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of the balcony door. I started to watch the snail under the pouring rain. Was it going to run away from the rain or was it running from the rain? He was bound to do something other than stand like a statue in the middle of two unknowns.

After about half an hour, there was movement. The snail began to drop its shell. He was leaving his home. But what would he do? didn't he need a shell? He slowly made his way over the marble into the rain. The beautiful shell was left there alone. The magic of the colors still dazzled my eyes. I stopped looking after the snail, which was slowly turning towards the bottom of the marble. I opened the balcony door and took the house he left behind. 

        Why did he leave it behind? Wasn't the shell his guarantor? Then I remembered something about them changing their shells when they couldn't fit inside them by straining my memory. I wasn't sure of right or wrong, but it made sense. Perhaps the reason he had been standing there for hours was an effort to come out of the shell in which he had taken root. Just like me...

        How could I assure myself of the security of a new shell if I stepped out of this shell from which I had rooted? Well... Did I have to?

        Under the weight of an afternoon filled with questions, I made myself a hot cup of coffee again. The rain had stopped. Jazz tunes had turned to blues, and the mood of my empty hall had changed a bit.

I got out of the chair and threw myself into the comfort of the seat. I didn't have to give up the life I knew completely. I could start small. For example, I haven't had a real vacation in a very long time. My hair has been red long enough to make me forget its true color anymore. Other types of music could be listened to besides jazz. For once, ordering food from outside wouldn't have killed the man. How long has it been since I've been to the movies?

        Then these thoughts started to grow. I had never traveled abroad or was this sofa set ideal for my comfort? Did I need two bedrooms?

        My gaze fell on the phone that started to ring. He was calling... For coffee... If I said yes once, it would be the second, the third, the fourth... He would move to me or we would go to another house... Would we get married? Who knows... A single yes would have caused the possibility of a lot of unknowns that surrounded my life like ivy branches.

        As I reached for the phone, I was like a snail coming out of its shell...

        "Let's have coffee now," he said cheerfully. It had been a while since he had stopped greeting.

I smiled as I turned the shell in my hand between my fingers.

        "I won't come if there's no tea," I said. I knew more or less how he would react. I didn't drink much tea. And he had never seen me drink tea.

        "Tea?" he asked in surprise.

        I chuckled...

        "Tea..."

        Goodbye, my shell...

        Life can always start over, no matter what age you are. As long as you want...