THE THREE-LEAF CLOVER

 THE THREE-LEAF CLOVER

As the sunlight softly filtered through the curtains, the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the kitchen.
That afternoon, for the first time, Neriman sighed as she spoke of her daughters.

“Ah, dear Ömür! Thank God my girls are grown up. They studied, found their professions, and no longer depend on me,” she said, her tone tinged with quiet sorrow.

Her neighbor of thirty years, Ömür, felt a strange heaviness. She had seen how life tested Neriman — a widow who had faced every challenge with courage. Raising three children alone had shaped her strength, yet also revealed her fragility.

A Mother’s Dream

Neriman used to describe her loss by saying, “I lost my wings.”
Her dream was simple: that her daughters would be educated, independent, and never have to rely on anyone.

“There are countless turns in life. I want my daughters to stand on their own two feet,” she often said.

To this end, she worked day and night — house cleaning, stair cleaning, packing jobs.
Whatever work she found, she did it with love. She sent her daughters to private tutors and enrolled them in study centers. And she succeeded. Her daughters graduated with honors.

Taking a sip of her tea, she continued softly.
“They don’t need me anymore, but now I worry about them more than ever.”
Her voice carried the quiet ache only a mother’s heart could know.

Three Daughters, Three Different Paths

“My eldest, Gülay,” she began, “graduated from the Faculty of Economics. She quickly became a finance manager at an international company.
‘I don’t want to struggle like my mother did. My first goal is to buy my own house,’ she said.
I was proud — I told everyone how ambitious she was. But soon, one house led to another, one car to the next.
It felt as if she wasn’t living to enjoy life, but only to own more of it.”

“My middle daughter, Nilay, studied biology, then became a preschool teacher. One day she said, ‘I want to be a nurse,’ and started studying again. She married, had a daughter — yet her restlessness never ended. This time, she wanted to be a head nurse. Always chasing the next goal, she sometimes forgot to pause, to simply be with her family.”

“And my youngest, Selinay,” she said with a faint smile, “graduated and started working, too. She’s bright, friendly, loved by everyone. Being surrounded by people makes her happy.
But in trying to please everyone, she often hurts herself.”

Neriman sighed deeply. “Gülay’s ambition is endless, Nilay’s search never ends, and Selinay longs to belong. I once believed success was the measure of happiness — but now I see, it’s not. Each of them has gone to extremes: one in having, one in becoming, and one in belonging.”

Finding Balance in Life

“I think I overlooked something, dear Ömür,” she said softly.
“I encouraged my daughters to grow in the areas where they were already strong — and thought that was enough.
I failed to help them balance their other sides.
Now I see how those unchecked strengths became weaknesses, quietly wearing them down.”

There was a long silence. Then, a faint smile appeared on her lips.
“If I could turn back time,” she whispered, “I would teach them that everything — success, love, even dreams — survives only through balance.”

She walked toward the window.
The orange light of the setting sun touched her face as she murmured,
“Perhaps motherhood is nurturing your three-leaf clover with love — and helping each leaf grow in harmony.”

Since the beginning of humanity, Our greatest friend and enemy has remained the same: The person in the mirror...

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