Alarm rings at 7:45. Get up at 8:10, wash my face, brush my teeth, chose an outfit to wear, put on make up and go downstairs. Feed the fish, pack lunch, clean up husband's mess from last night and grab something that could be carried out the door for breakfast. The car ride is relaxing, start by listening to "On Air with Ryan Seacrest", and eventually dozing off to day dreaming and wondering about "what ifs". Make it to work right at 9:00. Get settled in, log onto the computer, say a few good mornings, get the morning cup of coffee and check mail box. Check work e-mail, check personal e-mail, check orkut account, check yahoo home page, check who is online at MSN messenger. Eat whatever that was grabbed last minute from home with my warm cup of coffee.
Meeting with supervisor at 9:30. Talked about cases, staff on my team, who is not doing their work, how to replace the one that is leaving, etc.
Check mail box.
Go back to my office. Check e-mails, write e-mails, proof-read progress notes, approve funds, chat with coworkers. Check personal e-mail, check orkut account, check yahoo home page, check MSN messenger, etc.
Its noon and time for lunch. Get W & M away from what they are doing to have lunch with me. Warm up the slice of gourmet pizza from last night and spread Ranch dressing on salad. Sit in the lunch room with W, M, and others present and eat, chat and gossip. E brought carrot walnut cake. Eat a slice with tea and talk about books and movies.
Back to my office. Proof read Incident Report, read e-mails, respond to e-mails, draft CSPs, print Compliance Report and hi light my team. Chat with co-workers. Check personal e-mail, check orkut account, check yahoo home page, check MSN messenger, etc.
Check mail box. Refill coffee.
Worried boss comes into the office about a HIPPA violation by some one on my team. Shit. I have to write some one up. That sucks.
2:00 meeting with A who is on my team and is having trouble completing and turning in his Audits. I am helping him get them done. I tell A that he needs to Discharge his old cases and stop procrastinating. He sais that it will be done on Monday.
Get some more coffee.
Check my box and head back to my office. Read e-mails, respond to e-mails, proof read progress notes, approve and sign time sheets, approve and sign mileage reimbursements, map quest directions for Monday's Training in Santa Ana. Check personal e-mail, check orkut account, check yahoo home page, check MSN messenger, etc.
Chat with co-workers.
Set up "out of office" reply on e-mail for Monday, final check on all accounts, log off of computer, put dot on "out" on the board, say my "have a good weekend"s and leave the building. Another day passed with out a major crisis, a disaster or drama.
Use car ride home to make phone calls. Talk to mom about my passport picture and why I need an Iranian ID card? Talk to sister about my opinion of the "Kite Runner" movie.
Get home. Water the plants, have a snack, turn on the computer and check movies for tonight. Write in my blog until husband comes home so we can go out to dinner and movie.
All in all, pretty damn good day!
Friday, January 11, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My View
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Friend?
Who do you think the closest people to you are? Your family? Your friends? Your spouse? You will be surprised by my answer: My coworkers! Think about it, they are the ones who I see and spend time with 5 days a week 8 hours a day. They are the ones who know when I am having a bad day or a good day. They are the ones who notice my haircut, my new outfit and my bad mood. They are the first ones to hear about a new event in my life. They are the ones who are in my day to day life, in the details of it, in the little things such as a new painting that I am working on or a new book that I am reading.
I spend the bigger portion of my waking hours at the office. I talk to my coworkers more than I talk to any one els. They are the ones who I talk to about my work out session last night or the movie I saw yesterday or the latest episode of Gray's Anatomy. More than any one els, they know my routine, my life, and my thoughts.
Sure I talk to my friends, my family and my husband, however the extent of our conversations are limited. They were not part of my day. My coworkers are the people who I see day in and day out. They are the ones who know what I like to eat for lunch, how I take my coffee and what kind of cake I like. These are the people who are there for me when I need comforting. They are who I talk to when I had a fight with my husband. They are the ones who listen to my stories. These are the people who make my day or break my day.
I know about M's boyfriend problems and I try to help her with it. I am the one W talks to about her husband and little girl. I know where V is in the process of her home remodeling. I eat lunch with these people daily and sometimes dinners and drinks. We give each other Christmas gifts and birthday cards. We know each other's short comings and strengths. The office is our second home and we are like family.
But when one of us leaves, it is over, that is the story of work. We are as close as family, yet when our paths take different turns we do not look back and we move on. Because if it was not for circumstances we would not have been friends. We were from different worlds that some how collided with each other. We will not miss each other or even think about each other ever again. It was only a job, we were only coworkers. But at some point in time we were the closest people to each other in our lives.
I spend the bigger portion of my waking hours at the office. I talk to my coworkers more than I talk to any one els. They are the ones who I talk to about my work out session last night or the movie I saw yesterday or the latest episode of Gray's Anatomy. More than any one els, they know my routine, my life, and my thoughts.
Sure I talk to my friends, my family and my husband, however the extent of our conversations are limited. They were not part of my day. My coworkers are the people who I see day in and day out. They are the ones who know what I like to eat for lunch, how I take my coffee and what kind of cake I like. These are the people who are there for me when I need comforting. They are who I talk to when I had a fight with my husband. They are the ones who listen to my stories. These are the people who make my day or break my day.
I know about M's boyfriend problems and I try to help her with it. I am the one W talks to about her husband and little girl. I know where V is in the process of her home remodeling. I eat lunch with these people daily and sometimes dinners and drinks. We give each other Christmas gifts and birthday cards. We know each other's short comings and strengths. The office is our second home and we are like family.
But when one of us leaves, it is over, that is the story of work. We are as close as family, yet when our paths take different turns we do not look back and we move on. Because if it was not for circumstances we would not have been friends. We were from different worlds that some how collided with each other. We will not miss each other or even think about each other ever again. It was only a job, we were only coworkers. But at some point in time we were the closest people to each other in our lives.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Alcohol
Sanaz could not find me. She thought that it may be due to her alcohol intoxication. It was a big cabin and she had to search three stories. The rest of the individuals present did not realize that I was missing. Sanaz finally found me. I was spread out in the middle of a flight of stairs. I had not been able to make it to the bottom of the flight and had passed out in the middle of my journey to the bottom floor of the cabin.
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Act one started with me singing an "Andy" song on top of a stool in the bar, and Sanaz spilling her drink on the lap of an innocent bystander. Act two was Mohammad trying to keep both Sanaz and I from running across the street in order to get to the next bar. Act three was was when I asked Mohammad to take Sanaz outside because she was not feeling well, and ending up puking myself when the fresh air had contact with my face. Act four was Payam trying to drive my car to take us home and having to immediately halt in order for Shideh to hurl. Even though shideh did not have much to drink apparently throwing up is contagious for her. Act five was Sanaz and I both making sure that each other's hair does not get in the way of our puke. The final act was Mohammad laughing at my loud moans coming from the upstairs bedroom, as I was laying helpless on Sanaz's bed.
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It was new year's eve in Vegas. Anahita was taking a nap with her head on her lap as she was sitting very close to the roaring band. We continually threw pieces of paper at her. She would raise her head once every few throws, look at us and go back down. She ended up dancing on the side walk to her own singing of "man delam mari ro mikhad...".
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Maryam went to the bathroom. She did not return. I had to go see what the hold up was. She had locked herself in the stol and would not open the door. She refused to come out or let any one in. The manager of the bar had to be called. He continually demanded that I get my friend out. I was helpless. Maryam was assured that Houman had gotten the car and is waiting by the curb. She came out and was carried to the car.
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Bahareh and Maryam were passed out in the freezing car as the rest of us were having a 3:00 a.m. breakfast in the restaurant. Maryam kept trying to see if Bahareh was breathing. She concluded that Bahareh was dead due to not being able to see her breath. Bahareh finally had to let out a mellow moan in order for Maryam to calm down.
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One morning Sasan woke up on the lawn in front of his dorm. He realized that the night before he had not quite made it inside the building before he had passed out!
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Good times, good times...
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Act one started with me singing an "Andy" song on top of a stool in the bar, and Sanaz spilling her drink on the lap of an innocent bystander. Act two was Mohammad trying to keep both Sanaz and I from running across the street in order to get to the next bar. Act three was was when I asked Mohammad to take Sanaz outside because she was not feeling well, and ending up puking myself when the fresh air had contact with my face. Act four was Payam trying to drive my car to take us home and having to immediately halt in order for Shideh to hurl. Even though shideh did not have much to drink apparently throwing up is contagious for her. Act five was Sanaz and I both making sure that each other's hair does not get in the way of our puke. The final act was Mohammad laughing at my loud moans coming from the upstairs bedroom, as I was laying helpless on Sanaz's bed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was new year's eve in Vegas. Anahita was taking a nap with her head on her lap as she was sitting very close to the roaring band. We continually threw pieces of paper at her. She would raise her head once every few throws, look at us and go back down. She ended up dancing on the side walk to her own singing of "man delam mari ro mikhad...".
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maryam went to the bathroom. She did not return. I had to go see what the hold up was. She had locked herself in the stol and would not open the door. She refused to come out or let any one in. The manager of the bar had to be called. He continually demanded that I get my friend out. I was helpless. Maryam was assured that Houman had gotten the car and is waiting by the curb. She came out and was carried to the car.
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Bahareh and Maryam were passed out in the freezing car as the rest of us were having a 3:00 a.m. breakfast in the restaurant. Maryam kept trying to see if Bahareh was breathing. She concluded that Bahareh was dead due to not being able to see her breath. Bahareh finally had to let out a mellow moan in order for Maryam to calm down.
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One morning Sasan woke up on the lawn in front of his dorm. He realized that the night before he had not quite made it inside the building before he had passed out!
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Good times, good times...
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
"Khoobeh"
Maryam and I were walking down the street and talking about what type of guys we liked. As we emerged from "Razaneh Junubi" and stepped onto "Mirdamad" I looked to my left toward the bus stop and among the men & women who were waiting for the bus, one stood out to me. He was tall, dark, handsome, and delicious looking. I pointed him out to Maryam and said to her "there he is, that is exactly the type of guy I like... een khoobeh" as an example of my ideal guy. He looked reserved, shy, confident, and most importantly beautiful. She looked at him and I was satisfied that now she knows, and we continued on our walk. As the topic of our conversation continued we had to refer back to my ideal guy from the bus stop, so we naturally called him "khoobeh". Eventually this noun became part of our vocabulary as we referred to him or "khoobeh" as the face of a perfect guy... for me.
A couple of days later as Maryam and I were walking in our neighborhood we saw "khoobeh" again! How unlikely it is that we would run into this person, the one I had picked out in a crowd, again! I was in the the state of complete and utter excitement, yet keeping my cool and calm demeanor to save face in public. Eventually we realized that he lived in the same neighborhood as us, therefore taking the same routs as us. Now it was a daily project or excitement for me to step out and hope to get a glimpse of those enchanting and dreamy eyes, the dark wavy hair, and the absolutely adorable shy look he had.
As time went by we obtained more information about him, such as which street he lived in, who his friends were, at what times he can be spotted out in the evening, and that he noticed me too.
One day Maryam and I were walking from her house to mine and of course we took the long way to do that in order to run into "khoobeh", which we did. This time some thing amazing happened, he and his friend walked as well. They walked all the way to the end of the street as we did, they took the turn to the next street as we did and they continued to walk the same path as Maryam and I, they walked with us, only about 15 feet appart. We arrived at my street which was a dead end where "khoobeh" and his friend stopped and refrained from entering. They continued to remain standing at the entrance of our street and continued to wait for us to walk all the way to the end of the street, ring the door bell and enter the house.
It was evening time, when the sun had gone down and the city was starting to cool down from the torching summer heat. That is when all the boys and girls would come out of their homes and into the streets, each of them hoping to run into their own "khoobeh". So Maryam and I left the house as well.
That night we were rushing home after being out for too long when we saw "khoobeh" at his usual spot leaning against a car talking to his friends and looking adorable. He looked so good that once again my heart started to lose its patience and I had to contain it in my chest. He and his friends walked again, following us, but this time one of the friends, a very tall funny guy walked up to me and started a conversation. Maryam completely ignored him as she believed in appearing very angry in the streets in order to avoid the losers who try to approach you. I on the other hand had to try very hard not to lose my cool, I had a very hard time keeping my senses in tact. From what I was able to perceive from the friend through the loud beat of my heart and shaking of my hands was that his friend ("khoobeh") "likes me" and would like to provide me with his phone number, however he is too shy to come forward and converse with me personally, hence sending his friend to do the job for him. The next thing I knew I was handing the friend a notebook in order for him to trace "khoobeh"'s phone number for me. It was all so surreal to me, out of this world. How often do you have the one person who you had picked out of the entire city as an example of your ideal guy to be interested in YOU? Well, at least it had never had happened to me before, and at that time I was walking on clouds! Somehow I managed to walk the rest of the way home pretending to be calm and collected. Maryam and I ran up all of the 62 stairs to my house. We ran into the bedroom, held each other's hands and started jumping up and down, "whisper screaming" and laughing... celebrating! Later Maryam told me that her older and very protective brother had seen us do that through the window reflection of the bedroom, we had forgotten to close the door!
That was the start of my phone conversations with "khoobeh" (who had a name now, but we continued to call him "khoobeh"). The whispers over the phone that would go on for hours when no one was looking. All I could think about was how to find time to get to a phone with out being caught, when my parents leave the house, when I can hide in Maryam's room, etc. I stopped eating because the excitement was too much for my body. I even missed family gatherings which were given in our honor by relatives who I had not seen in years, because I could not miss one day of seeing his long eye lashes. One day when I passed by him very close up, I spent the next few days replaying those 5 seconds in my head over and over.
We talked and talked about every thing, and when I called him, each time he would start with "salam azizam" in a very low and soft voice which would make my heart skip a beat, or five! He said the most romantic things to me, words that girls love to hear such as "how am I going to live with out you after you leave". Even though deep down I knew the validity of them were highly improbable, I went along with the utterly satisfying romantic lines, both for his sake and mine. The phone conversations went on, but the extent of our face to face contact was passing each other out in the street. Although one time we walked together, but each one of us on different sides of the street!
One day I had to go from Maryam's house to mine to get ready for a big family engagement party. Before hanging up the phone with "khoobeh" he told me that he was home alone. So I did what every girl in that situation would NOT do, a very bold thing for being in that setting. I headed over to his house! I rang the door bell and proceeded to go inside. I was in such state of anxiety that my body was actually shaking, both for the fear of getting caught and for seeing and talking to "khoobeh" in person. It was the first time that we were looking at each other close up, he seemed like a stranger to me. We sat in his formal living room about 10 feet apart, and my head scarf remained on the entire time. I left his house after 10 minutes. When I think about the risk I took that day now, it gives me the chills. The entire engagement party I went over every detail of what happened and what was said, with Maryam and in my head.
The time had come for me to go back home to America, meaning having to say good bye to every one including "khoobeh". As much as I loved hearing him ask me to stay with him and not to leave him, I never gave it a second thought, knowing the reality of things, the reality of every thing.
It was our last night in Iran and all of our family and friends were over at our house once again. And I, not being as proper as I should have been, was out with a friend again. I had to see "khoobeh" and say goodbye to him in person. I had arranged to see him before we arrived home, at the entrance of our dead end street. This is the picture I have in my mind when I think about that night: It is dark, "khoobeh" and I are hiding on the side of the street behind a big old truck, my friend is out in the middle of the street alone, as Maryam's brother drives by on his way to our house when he stops to ask my friend what she is doing there and where I was at. But all I cared about and all I could see was "khoobeh" kneeling in the dirt by my side and whispering. I asked him to write in my memory book, and he did. We said our goodbyes, and during the entire encounter we did not get close enough physically to even brush up against each other! That was the last time I ever saw "khoobeh". When I checked the book to see what he had written later that night my heart sank as I read "I love you".
Later when I came back home to America I sent him a letter through Maryam and I received a letter back from him. In it he wrote about how much he missed me and how it felt like a drug had been taken away from him. He also informed me that he had been accepted to the University for Engineering and was very excited. That was the last time I ever heard from "khoobeh".
15 years has gone by and life has gone on with it's twists and turns, but the memory of that summer and "khoobeh" always stayed with me. The innocence of that time, the pureness of our ages, and the simpleness of it all. It is amazing how we remember such details from that time of our life, such as the dirt that was smeared on my memory book from his fingers. Maybe it is because every feeling is so much more exaggerated and new, where as now it is hard to even reach those feelings again. These are the memories that you can never re-create, so you hold on to them in order to sweeten up your life during hard times. These are the memories that fill up the happy pages of your story book. I some times wonder where "khoobeh" is and what he is doing now, but deep down in my heart I know that I do not want that information, because I want to save my memory of him as it is and not ruin the ending to my sweet little story.
A couple of days later as Maryam and I were walking in our neighborhood we saw "khoobeh" again! How unlikely it is that we would run into this person, the one I had picked out in a crowd, again! I was in the the state of complete and utter excitement, yet keeping my cool and calm demeanor to save face in public. Eventually we realized that he lived in the same neighborhood as us, therefore taking the same routs as us. Now it was a daily project or excitement for me to step out and hope to get a glimpse of those enchanting and dreamy eyes, the dark wavy hair, and the absolutely adorable shy look he had.
As time went by we obtained more information about him, such as which street he lived in, who his friends were, at what times he can be spotted out in the evening, and that he noticed me too.
One day Maryam and I were walking from her house to mine and of course we took the long way to do that in order to run into "khoobeh", which we did. This time some thing amazing happened, he and his friend walked as well. They walked all the way to the end of the street as we did, they took the turn to the next street as we did and they continued to walk the same path as Maryam and I, they walked with us, only about 15 feet appart. We arrived at my street which was a dead end where "khoobeh" and his friend stopped and refrained from entering. They continued to remain standing at the entrance of our street and continued to wait for us to walk all the way to the end of the street, ring the door bell and enter the house.
It was evening time, when the sun had gone down and the city was starting to cool down from the torching summer heat. That is when all the boys and girls would come out of their homes and into the streets, each of them hoping to run into their own "khoobeh". So Maryam and I left the house as well.
That night we were rushing home after being out for too long when we saw "khoobeh" at his usual spot leaning against a car talking to his friends and looking adorable. He looked so good that once again my heart started to lose its patience and I had to contain it in my chest. He and his friends walked again, following us, but this time one of the friends, a very tall funny guy walked up to me and started a conversation. Maryam completely ignored him as she believed in appearing very angry in the streets in order to avoid the losers who try to approach you. I on the other hand had to try very hard not to lose my cool, I had a very hard time keeping my senses in tact. From what I was able to perceive from the friend through the loud beat of my heart and shaking of my hands was that his friend ("khoobeh") "likes me" and would like to provide me with his phone number, however he is too shy to come forward and converse with me personally, hence sending his friend to do the job for him. The next thing I knew I was handing the friend a notebook in order for him to trace "khoobeh"'s phone number for me. It was all so surreal to me, out of this world. How often do you have the one person who you had picked out of the entire city as an example of your ideal guy to be interested in YOU? Well, at least it had never had happened to me before, and at that time I was walking on clouds! Somehow I managed to walk the rest of the way home pretending to be calm and collected. Maryam and I ran up all of the 62 stairs to my house. We ran into the bedroom, held each other's hands and started jumping up and down, "whisper screaming" and laughing... celebrating! Later Maryam told me that her older and very protective brother had seen us do that through the window reflection of the bedroom, we had forgotten to close the door!
That was the start of my phone conversations with "khoobeh" (who had a name now, but we continued to call him "khoobeh"). The whispers over the phone that would go on for hours when no one was looking. All I could think about was how to find time to get to a phone with out being caught, when my parents leave the house, when I can hide in Maryam's room, etc. I stopped eating because the excitement was too much for my body. I even missed family gatherings which were given in our honor by relatives who I had not seen in years, because I could not miss one day of seeing his long eye lashes. One day when I passed by him very close up, I spent the next few days replaying those 5 seconds in my head over and over.
We talked and talked about every thing, and when I called him, each time he would start with "salam azizam" in a very low and soft voice which would make my heart skip a beat, or five! He said the most romantic things to me, words that girls love to hear such as "how am I going to live with out you after you leave". Even though deep down I knew the validity of them were highly improbable, I went along with the utterly satisfying romantic lines, both for his sake and mine. The phone conversations went on, but the extent of our face to face contact was passing each other out in the street. Although one time we walked together, but each one of us on different sides of the street!
One day I had to go from Maryam's house to mine to get ready for a big family engagement party. Before hanging up the phone with "khoobeh" he told me that he was home alone. So I did what every girl in that situation would NOT do, a very bold thing for being in that setting. I headed over to his house! I rang the door bell and proceeded to go inside. I was in such state of anxiety that my body was actually shaking, both for the fear of getting caught and for seeing and talking to "khoobeh" in person. It was the first time that we were looking at each other close up, he seemed like a stranger to me. We sat in his formal living room about 10 feet apart, and my head scarf remained on the entire time. I left his house after 10 minutes. When I think about the risk I took that day now, it gives me the chills. The entire engagement party I went over every detail of what happened and what was said, with Maryam and in my head.
The time had come for me to go back home to America, meaning having to say good bye to every one including "khoobeh". As much as I loved hearing him ask me to stay with him and not to leave him, I never gave it a second thought, knowing the reality of things, the reality of every thing.
It was our last night in Iran and all of our family and friends were over at our house once again. And I, not being as proper as I should have been, was out with a friend again. I had to see "khoobeh" and say goodbye to him in person. I had arranged to see him before we arrived home, at the entrance of our dead end street. This is the picture I have in my mind when I think about that night: It is dark, "khoobeh" and I are hiding on the side of the street behind a big old truck, my friend is out in the middle of the street alone, as Maryam's brother drives by on his way to our house when he stops to ask my friend what she is doing there and where I was at. But all I cared about and all I could see was "khoobeh" kneeling in the dirt by my side and whispering. I asked him to write in my memory book, and he did. We said our goodbyes, and during the entire encounter we did not get close enough physically to even brush up against each other! That was the last time I ever saw "khoobeh". When I checked the book to see what he had written later that night my heart sank as I read "I love you".
Later when I came back home to America I sent him a letter through Maryam and I received a letter back from him. In it he wrote about how much he missed me and how it felt like a drug had been taken away from him. He also informed me that he had been accepted to the University for Engineering and was very excited. That was the last time I ever heard from "khoobeh".
15 years has gone by and life has gone on with it's twists and turns, but the memory of that summer and "khoobeh" always stayed with me. The innocence of that time, the pureness of our ages, and the simpleness of it all. It is amazing how we remember such details from that time of our life, such as the dirt that was smeared on my memory book from his fingers. Maybe it is because every feeling is so much more exaggerated and new, where as now it is hard to even reach those feelings again. These are the memories that you can never re-create, so you hold on to them in order to sweeten up your life during hard times. These are the memories that fill up the happy pages of your story book. I some times wonder where "khoobeh" is and what he is doing now, but deep down in my heart I know that I do not want that information, because I want to save my memory of him as it is and not ruin the ending to my sweet little story.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Oh Baby
People are starting to ask me that dreaded question. It was bound to come sooner or later. The question that you cannot avoid once you get married: "So when will you have a baby?". The quick answer that I give them is "I am not sure, when we feel ready", and I hope that it is not followed by a series of more questions. The long answer is "I'm not sure if I even want a baby", but I refrain from that answer to avoid this: "But you do not know, it is so worth it once you are holding that little baby in your arms".
Here is what I think when I think about a baby of my own: First comes my body expanding, large tummy, swollen ankles, fat face, and a big behind. 9 months of discomfort such as frequent puking, followed by the most excruciating pain one will ever experience in their life, and having strangers stick their heads into my privates and pulling out things such as the "mucus plug". Then comes the sleepless nights one after the other which results in tiresome days. Lets not forget about the fact that a person will be sucking fluid out of my breasts, leaving them saggy and unshapely. Then there is the few years of my association with poop, the smell, the shape and the different ways of cleaning it, and it is not my own!
My house as I know it will not exist any longer, the beautiful white couches, the glass table, the fabulous decorations will be no more. They will have to be replaced with baby furniture, ugly colorful things with wheels and pictures of animals. Elegance will have to take its leave and make room for germs and mess, things I can not stand. There will be toys every where, covered with spit!
My daily activities will include feeding, changing, watching cartoons and putting the baby down for naps in order to be able to take a shower, and possibly shave! If I am lucky I will lose the fat that came with the experience, but I will not have the time to take care of myself in any way, shape or form in which I used to. So I will be an ugly fat person covered in spit and poop. I will have to quit my job which will take away from my confidence, happiness and income. My only association with another adult human being will be through the television or other moms in the playground. Which brings me to the next change: The topics of my conversations will change. From the latest shoe styles to different types of diapers, from discussing the last episode of Sex & the City to why Barney is better than Sponge Bob Square Pants, and from what is going on in politics to what type of bib works best.
There will be no more going out at night with friends to restaurants and clubs with out worrying and having a time limit. There will be no more taking off and going to the gym as I please. There will be no more relaxing vacations for two or with a group of friends. There will be no more easy simple tasks such as going to a restaurant with out being in the receiving end of glares and dirty looks. There will be no more going out for drinks after work with coworkers. Shopping, coffee trips, bookstores, beach, pool, every thing will be jeopardized. No more freedom, no more peace, no more comfort. I will have to plan, schedule and prepare up to one week in advance for any activity, I will have to start getting ready 3 hours prior to going out. I will have to lug a stroller, diaper bag, toys and other things with me to any place I go. My group of friends will have to change to ones who have children as well in older to tolerate each other.
I will turn into a mini van driving chauffeur who takes a little person to every ridiculous class there is in order to give him the opportunity to chose, and confuse him more. Life as I know it will end and I will never, ever have the stress free life which I have now. The baby will drain my energy, my patience and my bank account.
Lets not forget that when the baby becomes an adolescent he will hate me for I will be a stupid old hag who embarrasses him. This will be followed by him leaving me as he grows up to only return for monthly visits by obligation.
Now they tell me when you look into your baby's eyes, when your baby smiles at you, when he falls asleep on your chest, then it makes it all worth while. They tell me that you will not care about the things you care about now when you have your baby. I have a hard time believing that and believe that this is yet another trick. This is what they tell you to reel you in and throw you down the same mess that they have been thrown in. It is very similar to when they never tell you the truth about hardships of marriage before you get married and they uncover it after you have jumped. It is all a trick, it is a scheme and I cannot fall for it. I refuse to believe that my life will be any less satisfying, meaningful, rewarding and fun with out kids. At least at this time in my life, I am so happy and grateful for my good night sleep, the peace of mind to sit here and write in my blog, and the option of buying a ticket and going to Vegas for the holidays with out having to give it a second thought!
Here is what I think when I think about a baby of my own: First comes my body expanding, large tummy, swollen ankles, fat face, and a big behind. 9 months of discomfort such as frequent puking, followed by the most excruciating pain one will ever experience in their life, and having strangers stick their heads into my privates and pulling out things such as the "mucus plug". Then comes the sleepless nights one after the other which results in tiresome days. Lets not forget about the fact that a person will be sucking fluid out of my breasts, leaving them saggy and unshapely. Then there is the few years of my association with poop, the smell, the shape and the different ways of cleaning it, and it is not my own!
My house as I know it will not exist any longer, the beautiful white couches, the glass table, the fabulous decorations will be no more. They will have to be replaced with baby furniture, ugly colorful things with wheels and pictures of animals. Elegance will have to take its leave and make room for germs and mess, things I can not stand. There will be toys every where, covered with spit!
My daily activities will include feeding, changing, watching cartoons and putting the baby down for naps in order to be able to take a shower, and possibly shave! If I am lucky I will lose the fat that came with the experience, but I will not have the time to take care of myself in any way, shape or form in which I used to. So I will be an ugly fat person covered in spit and poop. I will have to quit my job which will take away from my confidence, happiness and income. My only association with another adult human being will be through the television or other moms in the playground. Which brings me to the next change: The topics of my conversations will change. From the latest shoe styles to different types of diapers, from discussing the last episode of Sex & the City to why Barney is better than Sponge Bob Square Pants, and from what is going on in politics to what type of bib works best.
There will be no more going out at night with friends to restaurants and clubs with out worrying and having a time limit. There will be no more taking off and going to the gym as I please. There will be no more relaxing vacations for two or with a group of friends. There will be no more easy simple tasks such as going to a restaurant with out being in the receiving end of glares and dirty looks. There will be no more going out for drinks after work with coworkers. Shopping, coffee trips, bookstores, beach, pool, every thing will be jeopardized. No more freedom, no more peace, no more comfort. I will have to plan, schedule and prepare up to one week in advance for any activity, I will have to start getting ready 3 hours prior to going out. I will have to lug a stroller, diaper bag, toys and other things with me to any place I go. My group of friends will have to change to ones who have children as well in older to tolerate each other.
I will turn into a mini van driving chauffeur who takes a little person to every ridiculous class there is in order to give him the opportunity to chose, and confuse him more. Life as I know it will end and I will never, ever have the stress free life which I have now. The baby will drain my energy, my patience and my bank account.
Lets not forget that when the baby becomes an adolescent he will hate me for I will be a stupid old hag who embarrasses him. This will be followed by him leaving me as he grows up to only return for monthly visits by obligation.
Now they tell me when you look into your baby's eyes, when your baby smiles at you, when he falls asleep on your chest, then it makes it all worth while. They tell me that you will not care about the things you care about now when you have your baby. I have a hard time believing that and believe that this is yet another trick. This is what they tell you to reel you in and throw you down the same mess that they have been thrown in. It is very similar to when they never tell you the truth about hardships of marriage before you get married and they uncover it after you have jumped. It is all a trick, it is a scheme and I cannot fall for it. I refuse to believe that my life will be any less satisfying, meaningful, rewarding and fun with out kids. At least at this time in my life, I am so happy and grateful for my good night sleep, the peace of mind to sit here and write in my blog, and the option of buying a ticket and going to Vegas for the holidays with out having to give it a second thought!
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