As I walked up the stairs I thought of the last time I had been in our house. It was a long time ago, about four years ago. I had been 11 years-old. I had such great memories in our house and in every part of Tehran that I had been to.
For a long while I thought that I’m dreaming. I thought that I’m just in a beautiful dream. Even though I constantly thought it is a dream, I knew it was real.

When I stepped inside, I noticed that everything looked different. To my eyes the house had shrunk. I remember thinking it was big. Maybe because I had been small and everything had looked big to me.
I had to take a look at everything. I even looked inside the cabinets in the kitchen. I looked inside the closets and drawers. I looked outside the window. I really felt good.
My cousins came to see me. At first it was hard to talk. I had to think even though I had a lot to say. All the while I had to remind myself that everything that was happening was real. Every minute was sweet and will never be forgotten. How can I forget such things? Such beautiful things that I always have to wait long for to see.
Some things stay with us forever but some walk out of our memories. This trip to home will never leave my memory.