Hooman drives. Laila is in the back seat, holding Darya, her baby girl. My sister is next to Laila, watching Darya. Joon, you are so cute. Mikham bokhoramet. I wanna eat you. My sister is saying to Darya, who has big cheeks, blue eyes, curled lashes, and a soft skin.
It’s just us and Darya. I pretend we are driving to darya, sea. We are singing to a Persian song, for us, for Darya, and being happy. It’s nice. This kind of happiness that doesn’t have an explanation, that doesn’t need one, that is in the moment.
I pretend we are driving to see the ocean because I like the thought of waves and water and wind. I like the thought of bliss and air and sand.
But we never get to sea. We take Darya home and put her to bed. She doesn’t sleep.