The formal living room was very big and always immaculate. The green couch had it's back to a series of very wide and bright windows. Between the couch and the window was the heater, or the "shoofaj". The lace white and yellow curtains were always open wide.
I would sit on top of the couch's back facing away from the room, and toward the window. I would put my little feet on top the hot heater "shoofaj" and some times squeeze them in between the slots. Then I would look out the window at the most magnificent view: the Alborz mountains overlooking the city of Tehran. There were no high rises blocking my view of the city and I could see each and every home all the way to the bottom of the very strong mountain. The honorable mountain which was always covered in snow. I knew every single home by heart to the point of what was stored in their balconies and on their roofs. I would sit there for hours and look out the window. Some times I would take a plate of dried sour cherries, sit up there and snack on them while watching the city and the mountain and the birds. I always kept the fat and juicy cherries for last since they were my favorite. It felt so good to have my feet warmed by the hot heater "shoofaj" while watching the cool air outside. Some times people would come out of their homes and into their balconies or on their rooftops to pick up or drop off things or to clean, and I would watch them. I watched cars come in and out of the garages in our street. I watched the birds hop from one roof top to another. And I watched the mountain. Oh yes the mountain, he was ever so strong and proud, with such beautiful colors of white and blue. He looked over the entire city as a guardian. He made my view perfect and familiar.
My parents always wondered how I can sit in one place and stare out at nothing. But it was not nothing to me, it was my city. I was facinated by that enchanting view. It was my solitude, my peace, and my spot. warm feet, four stories high looking down at my world, and snacking on my favorite treats.
I heard later that the owners of the house across the street from our home decided to build a high rise in place of the two story home. I believe my view is gone now. Whoever that now lives in "our" house does not get to sit by the window and watch the city and the mountain while warming up their feet and snacking on dried sour cherries. That living room must be so dark now. Maybe that special place was mine only. I am comforted that I am not there now to be faced with a wall instead of my view. And to be reminded each day that my beautiful view of the familiar homes and the proud mountain is sitting behind a brick wall.