My parents in-law are coming. Mehmet is going to drive to New York to pick them up, a six hour journey to the JFK airport, and back. Not an easy thing considering they will spend almost ten hours prior to that in the air plane. But they preferred this option. There is no direct flight from Istanbul to Washington DC. All the other flights connect somewhere in Europe and my in-laws are over 70 years of age, they don’t want to run from terminal to terminal. The last time they came, they were almost missing the connection in Frankfurt, making a sprint like nothing to make it to the gate. As a result they wowed not to come again, but alas… So here we are. In Professor Dumbledore’s words “Once again I must too much of you…” My mom and Mehmet’s parents are going to overlap for a couple of days. So it is easy for Mehmet to leave me in mom’s very capable hands to go to NY. I have not been left alone since the time of the stroke. We don’t know how safe I am yet, besides on and off I am having these panic attacks, which render me totally useless. When my in-laws come, they are very happy to be with us. You see, this not the first time they come for an extended visit. After Kaan’s birth when I came down with the post partum depression they came and helped us for six months. They are extremely helpful people, they have this old fashioned sense of duty. If you ask anything of them they want to give their 150% to it. We also get along very well, from the very beginning their attitude was very favorable to our marriage, with time this has deepened into a mutual respect and love for each other. Now they are ready to help me as much as they can, to teach me how to talk again. They are almost giddy about it as far as I can tell. There is also a funny dynamic involved. Up until this stroke I have always called them by their name. My mother in-law’s name is “Nermin”, my father in-law is “Sureyya”. I address them as “Nermin Hanim” “Sureyya Bey”. I am pretty sure that they always wanted me to call them “Mom” and “Dad” because they love me like their daughter. But up until now I just couldn’t bring myself to it, thinking that my own mom and dad could be offended. Oh well, now I have much difficulty in pronouncing their names, so there is no other choice but to call them “mom” and “dad” now. (“anne” and “baba” in Turkish). There is a reason why the first baby words are simple, don’t you think? Simple sounds, simple words. A couple of days later my mom arrives home, dad missed him so much!