I want to be little Ahmed: A report from the Cradle of civilization

I want to be little Ahmed.
My father, Alladin, would have a shop in Spices Bazaar in middle of Istanbul.

I’d spend my youth days crawling between the legs of strangers and eating pistachios straight from our shop and drinking apple tea.

When I’d have grown up to a age of a teenager I would help my father sell herbal teas, cheeses, spices, turkish delight and nuts. I’d have started to learn English. I wouldn’t be a good salesman yet, but I’d get better and better fast.

When I’d be a man in middle years, I’d kiss my wife every morning on her burka and get to my shop in the Spices Bazaar. There I’ll yell at customers to get them to buy my wares until my throat would be sore. Then I’ll go to smoke some water pipe, drink some apple tea and play some backgammon.

When I’d get older, I’d leave my shop to my soldest son. I’d stay at home with his and mine wife and I’d only go out to mosque. There I’d spent hours at a time, I might even get used to the terrible smell of feet. I’d lie on the soft carpet and enjoy the cool climate. It’d be my second home, for when I’d need to escape the busy life around. I’d reminiscence about the old days and I’d be looking up to the roof with all its majestic decorations.

The day would come, that I’d be lying on my deathbed. I’d ask my wife to put down her burka for the last time, so I could see her hair. She’d open the window. A cool summer breeze would wash my face. And then, it would wash my soul away as well. That moment, I’d be the happiest person that ever lived.

And then, I’d finally get to meet my maker. It wouldn’t be a thing I’d be scared of the whole life for I’d be sure about his might and appreciation for all the good I’ve done.I’d be eager to meet his Divinity and bow.