according to 'many'...Iran is no place to miss.
... A place filled with dirt, pollution and reckless drivers;
People are rude and smell horrible.
Men never shave and women...well...according to 'many' don't exist.
Education is forbidden.
It is the country of corrupt economy and nuclear program so dangerous it can blow up many countries at once!
but i still miss it...
I miss it when I think of Tehran.
I still miss it when I think of our small apartment on the fourth floor;
my room which was shared with my little sister;
each neighbor had their own story.
I still miss it when I think about the the nosy neighbor who would lean forward of the hallway window for hours to make sure she is not missing out on any of the neighborhood action...
or the 'namaki' who would appear in the middle of the summer afternoon to sell and buy any plastic topoware.
Or my sister who would run down the stairs with a glass of water to greet my grandma half way on the second floor every time she would come to visit.
I remember my sister and I would wait hours for our dad to come home only to beg him to take us to the tiny little park up the hill!
Or when we could not wait to get home from school to take off our scarfs which in most cases had already made a bush out of our hair underneath and had to be unpeeled from our scalp.
According to 'many' Iran is no place to miss...but they might not know that...every Thursday night was family night.
every Thursday night, my Aunt and cousins would come over .
the smell of sunflower seeds, peeled clementine, and Persian peeled cucumber with salt would fill the whole house.
Adults would eat and drink Persian tea and my cousins and I would talk about anything and everything. I still can hear the conversations and laughter.
Every Thursday night, I would think.." nothing can make me happier"...That is gone and I miss it.
I miss Hajar high school. A place where only girls were allowed; Where our nails, eyebrows and upper lips were checked every Saturday morning; God forbid if we had nail polish on or had touched the manly hair of our faces...
Where I did not do much homework, but learned a bunch from our conservative, covered in black chadour teachers.
The night I left Iran, was a joyful night! I thought " I am finally leaving this bleak place and I am never coming back." But that feeling soon left me as soon as the plane landed...
The truth is that one day I am indeed going back.
Going back to undust the memories and relive the forgotten moments.
... A place filled with dirt, pollution and reckless drivers;
People are rude and smell horrible.
Men never shave and women...well...according to 'many' don't exist.
Education is forbidden.
It is the country of corrupt economy and nuclear program so dangerous it can blow up many countries at once!
but i still miss it...
I miss it when I think of Tehran.
I still miss it when I think of our small apartment on the fourth floor;
my room which was shared with my little sister;
each neighbor had their own story.
I still miss it when I think about the the nosy neighbor who would lean forward of the hallway window for hours to make sure she is not missing out on any of the neighborhood action...
or the 'namaki' who would appear in the middle of the summer afternoon to sell and buy any plastic topoware.
Or my sister who would run down the stairs with a glass of water to greet my grandma half way on the second floor every time she would come to visit.
I remember my sister and I would wait hours for our dad to come home only to beg him to take us to the tiny little park up the hill!
Or when we could not wait to get home from school to take off our scarfs which in most cases had already made a bush out of our hair underneath and had to be unpeeled from our scalp.
According to 'many' Iran is no place to miss...but they might not know that...every Thursday night was family night.
every Thursday night, my Aunt and cousins would come over .
the smell of sunflower seeds, peeled clementine, and Persian peeled cucumber with salt would fill the whole house.
Adults would eat and drink Persian tea and my cousins and I would talk about anything and everything. I still can hear the conversations and laughter.
Every Thursday night, I would think.." nothing can make me happier"...That is gone and I miss it.
I miss Hajar high school. A place where only girls were allowed; Where our nails, eyebrows and upper lips were checked every Saturday morning; God forbid if we had nail polish on or had touched the manly hair of our faces...
Where I did not do much homework, but learned a bunch from our conservative, covered in black chadour teachers.
The night I left Iran, was a joyful night! I thought " I am finally leaving this bleak place and I am never coming back." But that feeling soon left me as soon as the plane landed...
The truth is that one day I am indeed going back.
Going back to undust the memories and relive the forgotten moments.
هر کسی کو دور ماند از اصل خویش/ باز جوید روزگار وصل خویش
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