Chapter 2: Time

My cousin puts a picture of her brother's lovely, cute, adorable daughter on Instagram and I see it while I'm carelessly browsing my feed. I stop and stare. I know this, I know that they have come to Tehran to visit my family and I know that they are staying at our house, but staring at that picture makes everything real all of a sudden. The baby girl is sitting on our sofa, looking at the TV, with a doll in her arms. She is sitting right where I used to sit and watch TV. She is there and I'm here, thousands of miles away.

I don't know what I expected! Did I expect that everything goes on a long pause? I guess I did. I thought I would somehow catch up, that I will be able to go back and not have missed a single thing. Well guess what? I was wrong. Time is certainly passing by and I'm certainly not there in every single moment of the lives of people that are so dear to me. I'm here, sitting in my one bedroom apartment in Seattle, trying to think that it's ok. That I would go back and catch up. I would make up for these two years, somehow.

My cousin's daughter, whose name is "Shirin" was born when I was in the US. She is a chubby, cute, big-eyed little baby girl and she is going through that sweet phase of being a baby. I see pictures and videos every now and then and I have almost a feeling of somehow knowing her. I have made up her personality in my mind and think that I would totally know what she likes and what she hates. This could be all in my mind but I'd like to believe it. I have this thing with babies, this secret bond. Somehow they like me, and I like them. It's not just babies, I usually have a better relationship with kids rather than adults. Whenever there was a party or a gathering at our place, you could find me in my room, playing with the kids. I would usually end up telling them a story or reading them a book, trying my best to show them how great it is to dive into the story world. It's better than the real world, that's for sure!

Shirin is not the only kid that I'm missing out on. One of the kids in my family that I had a strong relationship with was my other cousin's daughter, "Sarvenaz". She was four when I left Iran.

Sarvenaz used to call me "Ana" because that was the closest she could get to my name, and she always wanted to play, and I played with her because I liked it. She was unstoppable, and she would never get tired. Didn't matter how much I tried to sit down with her and play something that doesn't require too much movement, she always wanted to run around, go hide, or take me from one room to another and explore. If you wanted something to be safe, you had to make sure it is out of her reach and out of her sight, both!

I clearly remember the last time I saw Sarvenaz. She and her mother, my cousin, came to our house to say goodbye to me. It was two days before my departure day from Iran. I still had to pack a lot of things and make sure that I take enough things to help me survive and not too much that I don't have space or weight for. It was really hard fitting everything into two suitcases, not weighing above 50 pounds. How can you pack twenty-three years of your life into two suit cases, not knowing when you will be back for the rest?

I was trying to figure all that out and she came to my room and sat on the floor, watching me roam around my room, putting things from one place to another. A few times she asked me to let's play but I was so busy and my mind so occupied, I told her that I can't right now. After I rejected her a couple of times, with a tone so surprised, she said: "Are you saying that we are not going to play at all today?" and I suddenly looked back at her, forgetting all that I had to do for a second, and thought about the sentence she just said. She was surprised, and angry and she didn't expect me to welcome her like that, for the first time not even wanting to play with her. What she didn't know and she made me realize with that sentence was that I wasn't going to play with her for a very, very long time.


Last month, Sarvenaz started going to school. She is learning to read and write now. Not sure she needs it though, because she used to remember the books that were read to her word by word and yet she insisted that you read them to her and she accompanied you in narrating the story, correcting you if God forbid you missed a line, or even a word. Yes, she was four at the time I left and now she has homework to do. Oh and I forgot to mention that she has a new born baby brother that I haven't seen yet. There!

And I wish it was just babies, and kids who grew up. But that's not the case. People around you also grow up, and as ugly as it may sound, they grow old. I try not to think too much about this aspect of time, the aspect of making people grow older and weaker, but sometimes it hits me in the face. Like the last time I Skyped with my grandfather.

My grandfather and I have a very strong bond, and it started from when I was a little kid. I had a working mom and I used to stay with my grandparents when she was at work. My grandmother stayed at home and took care of me and my grandfather would sometimes take me to his small little grocery store. Those days were the happiest days of my life, because I used to get to walk with him, hold his hand, and I felt big, and grown-up, standing next to him in the store, watching him sell stuff to people. He even used to let me sit on the counter top when there were no customers, and I could see everything in the store. I felt very big!

But I was even happier when he took me to the park after his shift was over. He would let me come down the slide as many times as I wanted, never getting tired, never telling me to rush. I remember clearly that one time, I was coming down the slide and he was trying to catch me and slow me down and I hit his hand hard with my little feet. I felt so bad and even though he told me it was nothing, I didn't want to go down the slide again that day. After we went back home, I took a closer look at his hand and there was this bump on his middle finger. I asked him whether it was because I bumped into his hand earlier that day. He said that he has had that bump for a very long time and he told me that it was a mosquito bite. I don't think I ever believed him.

One day, he told me that he is going to take me on a bus ride, just like he had promised. I couldn't wait till we get to the bus, holding his hand firmly and lovingly, thinking that he is the best person in the world and I'll be going through the best experience of my life. We walked and passed blocks and I could see we are getting closer to the street that had wires in the sky. I knew that those wires were for the buses and I couldn't hold my excitement any longer. I pulled his hand and ran to the bus stop and he ran with me, listening to me babbling about going on the bus. Just like he listened to me all the coming years after.

As I grew up, I used to go visit him as often as I could. We would sit down and play cards, he would talk to me about the past, telling me stories about his childhood. Sometimes if he was in the mood, he would bring his photo album and go through the photos, explaining who is who and where each photo was taken. I've never seen anyone with a memory like his. He would remember everything and everyone, names, numbers, dates. He remembered my birthday all these years, always calling me to tell me happy birthday. This year he didn't call.

The last time we Skyped, he could neither see me nor hear me. He only knew that I was there, at the other end of that call and he blew me a kiss. He had to trust that I would see that and catch it. That was all he could hope for. But I couldn't even hope for that, I just hoped that he remembers how much I loved him, how much I used to sit down with him and talk, play cards and sometimes just be silent. Hopefully time doesn't take that away from him, and me, too.

Chapter 1: Smell

Lying in bed, while Facebook messaging my best friend, it comes back to me. It has been a long time since the smell has come to me. Actually I had forgotten about it all together, but surprisingly it came back, very unexpectedly. Last time I smelt it was probably a year ago. I took the car and drove there, playing “Cold Play” the whole way. I was very anxious because I knew it’s probably the last time I will see most of them. And who knew when I would see them again, especially my best friends. The only person’s departure that was settled was mine. 

I get there and park in he right side of the boulevard. A bit further than the park that holds some of our dearest memories. How much debate and struggle we went through to hold the classes there? How many times we went under the water hose in the hot days, or grabbed someone in attempt to drown them in the pool? I even told one of my best friends the beginning of my love story, right there in the middle of the park, sitting in the shadow of that tree. It was exactly four years ago… .

Now it’s four years later and I’m leaving the country. I’m leaving the country in less than a month and as I get closer, each day, I become more scared. I don’t feel confident like I always do, no! I feel scared! I don’t know what expects me there. I have no idea whether I’ll like it, or I’ll hate it? These questions roam in my head every day. The only thing that I’m sure of is that I have to stick with my decision and see it for myself. I have to go and see if it works for me. For the time being, I’m just focusing on that, on having faith in my decision.

I get out of the car, go up the stairs and into my beloved high school. Looking eagerly for familiar faces. Either girls from my own class, or the ones from the years before or after me. I instantly cheer up. This is the effect of this place, it lightens my mood up. And that smell comes. I can’t describe it, it’s not like a real smell. It’s not like the smell of spring or of fall. It’s not like smelling flowers or your favorite food. It’s like the smell of memories, it’s like a jar holding four years of my life and whenever I come back, I open the jar and take a good, long sniff. And just like that, all the memories come back in a flash back. I see faces, classes, teachers, corridors, notebooks, notes, everything. And for me, it’s the best smell in the world.

I find my way to the dining hall, because everyone will be there. Today is the most important day in Ramadan. It’s called Laylat al-Qadr. People gather around and stay up all night, praying. That’s why we have this annual event on this day, because we can stay up and be together, be with the people that we haven’t seen in almost a year, our friends from high school. The reason why it takes place in the dining hall is because we have our Iftar there, the meal we eat and break our fast with. I don’t usually fast myself but I love Iftar, since it has my favorite dishes and deserts. I usually don’t eat anything other than the deserts, and my favorite is Sholezard (Saffron Rice Pudding). And there are plenty of Sholezard dishes here!

I look around to find my friends. Well, I pretty much know everybody. I can’t walk by a table and not say hi to a dozen people. It’s like they are my family, a family that I visit at least once a year. A family that I spent, most probably, the most adventurous four years of my life with. As I go further down the dining hall, I hear a laugh. I can tell that it’s Mana. Mana has this audible, unique laugh of hers that will reveal she is in a room whenever you hear it. And I know if Mana is laughing, then the gang is probably all here.

This friend of mine, whom I’m Facebook messaging is from that gang. She is in Iran, as we speak, and I miss her. I miss her, and I miss being with her and doing the things we used to do back in Iran. I tell her that, and I tell her that sometimes, something happens and I think that if she was here, we would laugh at this, or cry about it together. It’s so strange that she is not here anymore, it’s so strange that I still think about her and her presence every day. Almost a year has passed and sometimes, I think like it was yesterday that I said goodbye to them. I saw them at the last table in the dining hall and I smiled and a I instantly felt a lump in my throat. This was going to be our last gathering, all of us, together.