It was a warm night in middle of August. Tehran was in a deep sleep. My eyes were in tears and I was getting ready to say goodbye to my motherland.
My story was just some more pages of the book of my generation’s destiny. Like many other Iranians in my age, I had two choices, stay and struggle or leave and be alone, stay and fight for freedom or leave and survive in freedom. I chose leave over stay, loneliness over struggle and survival over fight. I was just a young son from an old land who left to see the world and taste the sweetness of freedom and sourness of Ghorbat.
Next day, I left for Rome but my dreams were in San Francisco. From that day it took me 4 years to make it to America and 8 years to San Francisco.
Today, finally I am calm, happy and grateful. I have a new home, new life and new destiny, and still after 12 years I get a chance to see, touch and breath my old life. In less than 20 days I will be walking in the crowd and crazy streets of Tehran, I will be smelling the roses of Kerman and eating pomegranates of Shabe Yalda in my very own home.
For the first time in my life I get a chance to not be alone and still be free.
I am going to my old home with the precious gift of freedom.
