Relatives

I can't really compare Turkish families to American, or even to each other - because as family life goes.  Everybody's different.  Some assume our in-laws live with us because that's what they do in Turkey - but I'm not so sure this is true.  I don't know anyone who's family lives with them.  I do know a few who's family live in the same building though.  Some people say Turks have kids so their kids will take care of them - but I've seen both extremes here - kids taking care of their parents, and parents opting to put themselves in a home before having to interrupt their kids' lives.  

So the only family I can talk about, and compare, are my own families.  I don't have the whole story yet because its filled with drama (and kind of confusing to me).  But the main character here is the woman to Baba's right.  This is his younger sister.  Baba comes from a family of eight, and I think most have passed away, and I don't think any of them were kind or generous or selfless - all traits of Baba and even more so in Tolga.  Even so, Baba is a loving soul, and while he'll complain about his sister - he is always happy to see her.  As soon as they called to announce they were coming today - he made Anne find him some house slippers that covered his missing toes.

The Rellies

The woman to Baba's left is his niece - it was my first time meeting her.  And the woman with her arm around Anne is a cousin or something - a woman who reminds me of any one of my warm and smiley aunts in the way she always enthusiastically hugs and kisses me and jumps in the kitchen to help herself or to even serve our guests as if it were her home.  She has about seven kids, a husband with a second wife and set of children in another city, and four teeth.  

Zuleyha had spent the day making börek, cake, as well as lunch for us ... so there was little I had to do.  She served the tea - this is traditionally "the brides" job.  Something I don't mind, and I know my mother-in-law takes pride in me fulfilling this role.  And while my aunt my expect these formal routines of me kissing her hand and serving the tea - our cousin dismisses it with the kind of practical sense I can relate to: I'm pregnant, I'm a foreigner, and there's enough able bodies in the house to do it just as well.  My cousin wouldn't even let me kiss her hand.  She just grabbed my cheeks and probably would have planted a big smooch on my lips if I hadn't turned my head in the last second.