I hope you left your personal space behind

No personal space - that's essentially the rule when you come home to Istanbul. My mom wakes me up. I take a while to open my eyes (10 minutes.) She cuddles and kisses me. I give in and get up. As I make my way to the bathroom, my dad rushes ahead of me and darts in saying he forgot to get some medicine from the cabinet. I start whining but he reassures me that it will be a nanosecond. I close the door and head to the shower. My brother knocks on the door. "How many minutes will you be?" "MANY!" I scream back. He says something in return but I cannot hear thanks to running water.

It never stops. When I am reading, when I am watching TV, when I am leaving the house: "What are you doing? Where are you going? Can I pass through here to go to the balcony?" We are a family of four in a four-bedroom apartment. On average, there are three people per room. Combinations change, the number may go up or down by one for a fifteen-minute interlude yet essentially we live as a crowd.

Wasn't this what I wanted? A bit warmth? Some interaction, with much more love and stronger feelings? Perhaps my mom was right. I've become too accustomed to living on my own. "You've become Americanized," she says. Who's to say no?