When you set foot in a place to begin a life you don’t know what will become of that life. Or maybe you do. You are not aware of the changes that take place and you might not expect any surprises, but we all know that life is full of them.
As an 8 year-old I never expected to live in America or even to leave my land. I never imagined that my time was going to be very short and unfortunately I didn’t know how precious life was.
Right now life is acceptable for me. I have accepted the past and the present and I don’t regret any part of my life.

Continue reading Accepting Life

A minute ago I didn’t know what to write about. I couldn’t write about love because I don’t know what love is. I couldn’t write about happiness because it is different for everyone. For me happiness is being with my family and enjoying life. For someone else happiness might be a glass of cold water or a chocolate cake. To a homeless happiness can be a home with a nice cozy blanket. To a starving man happiness can be a piece of bread. To a rich family happiness can be a new Mercedes or a villa near the ocean. To a little kid happiness can be a toy with mom and dad.
I can’t write about sadness because it brings pain. I can’t write about the world simply because I haven’t yet seen it all.
I have an opportunity to write and let others see it. I write in a cool room, with music, and a computer. Somewhere out there, someone else might be writing, but in a small space, with an almost broken pencil, with lots of disturbing noise, too much heat, and no one to show it to.

My parents looked at the many photos I had taken from Iran. As I saw, I stepped into them and the memories reminisced.
My relatives saw me as an older, wiser, and a changed person. A very different person from the one they used to know. Now that I’m back I feel even more changed.
The future keeps knocking on my door and I get worried. I try to enjoy my life without thinking of tomorrow or the day after.
I already had fifteen years of life and there is more to come.
I don’t want to be famous, but I want to be noticed. I want to be unique. I want to be remembered.

Saturday mornings people go to the mall and spend their morning and part of their afternoon shopping.
The road is clear. Not too many cars. Not too much traffic. It is a joy to drive.
At home music can play loudly.
At the movies people quiet down when the film starts.
People are not allowed to smoke in public places.
Choosing a comfortable outfit is not a problem.
Writing is not a crime.
Speaking is not wrong.
Dreaming is allowed.
Success exists.
Freedom is a word.
Love is a reality.

I went to the park today with mom. I ran a bit and then walked. My arms and shoulders still hurt from picking up the suitcases.
Again I started comparing. This time America and Iran. I was very upset in Iran because I noticed the unfairness. I always knew it, but knowing is different than seeing. When you see, you understand. You really understand. So I saw and I wasn’t happy to see a country falling apart.
In the park today I told mom about my journey. I told her how I felt. She felt the same, she understood me. That’s all I can write right now. My mind is somewhere else…

Pretty soon I will leave Belgium. To be exact it will be Tuesday, July 22nd. This time I will go back to America. I should start saying “home”, but no matter how hard I try I can never call anywhere home except Iran. Part of me is still there.
I talked to my mom yesterday. She said she is waiting for me. To be honest I don’t miss America, I miss my parents and the life I have there. There’s a bit of fear in me everytime I have to go back to that life. It is the fear of school, work, and other things. I often feel lonely in America without my sister and brothers. I always feel the need for them to be with me.