Your Last Shirt

My other half and I are currently on a tour of the south-west portion of Turkey. Our tour guide, Ahmed, is a delight. He not only informs us, he also admonishes and instructs us. Today our timetable included a boat trip on the Dalyan river delta to the famous Iztuzu Beach, where, in the Summer months, loggerhead turtles come in their thousands to lay their eggs.

On the way, we went past some spectacular rock tombs, which had been carved into the rock face by the ancients, to act as mausoleums. They varied in size and elaborateness, from simple holes to miniature temples. Ahmed was explaining that the size of the tomb varied according to the occupant's status in this life, and then exclaimed: "You know, it really doesn't matter. We have a saying in Turkey: 'Your last shirt has no pockets.' In other words, you cannot take anything with you."

I had been feeling a little sorry for myself, as, unlike the previous day, the weather was grey and overcast, and my back was aching from all the sitting. "Your last shirt has no pockets" reminded me to appreciate the moment, and enjoy what was happening as it happens.