Another Life

"If this godforsaken regime one day changes, I promise that I myself will take you to the place in which you were born." - Fereydon Sheei (my father)

I was raised an Iranian in most ways possible, yet there exists such a disconnect between my life as an Iranian here in the U.S. versus the life of one in Iran. While I envision the beautiful rose gardens of Shiraz and the spirit of Hafiz, the ancient ruins of Persepolis, the majestic Alborz mountains, the sweet taste of rosewater saffron ice cream, the smell of fresh roasted pistachios on every corner, the truth is, I cannot begin to imagine the life of twenty-something year old there.

But if for some reason my brother's kidneys had not failed, if my father had not cut in line at the embassy, or had he not been in uniform and thus given special treatment, had he not received a temporary release from the Iranian Air Force, had the government not retracted his leave of absence, and had he been allowed back into his own country without imminent imprisonment, had we not been blessed with the kindness of my father's English friends and had we not received our green cards, Iran may have been my home today. And I, a 27 year old woman, with tattoos and a sweet old cat, living comfortably in my little house, with freedom to do as I please, would have been a completely different person than I am today.

And were I that different person, would I risk my life in protest so that my kids would one day live a peaceful life with all basic human rights bestowed upon them?

May the blood, tears and lives shed this week and the last 30 years all lead to a better place.

May I one day enjoy the soil of Iran hand-in-hand with my father.