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 I was only nineI scared the poor girl to death By Babak Peyvandi March 25, 2002 The Iranian I started the new year with a strange feeling. Feeling of being away from my country, of being lonely. It suddenly occured to me that despite having a great career, a good job, good friends and a great family there is still a part that is missing in my life. This feeling hung around me like a dark cloud all day. In the afternoon, I decided to go grocery shopping. After picking up the list that my mother had so carefully instructed me to purchase, I found myself at one of the counters. After putting my basket on the floor, my eyes suddenly caught up to a little Iranian girl that was holding her mother's hands. She had black straight short hair, thick Persian eyebrows and unlike many Iranians, tiny eyes. Suddenly she dropped a magazine. All of a sudden I found myself gazing at this little girl as if I had known her or seen her before. As the neurons in my brain were processing this thought, they finally came with an answer. She looked exactly like my first girlfriend in Iran. When I was nine, a year before leaving Tehran, we had just moved to a new apartment. One day, as I was exploring the neighborhood to find friends to play with, my eyes caught a beautiful girl that was playing with her sister. She had short black hair, big eyebrows and small eyes that gave a classy yet beautiful 'tomboyish' look to her face. Me being a "bache poroo" took the chance and introduced myslef "Manam meetonam baazee konam?" I mumbled as my thin, nine year old knees were shaking. When she said yes, it was as if the world had been given to me. So began our friendship. A healthy, innocent yet true friendship between a young boy and a little girl. We used to play hide and seek and other games and just had so much fun toghether.  One day, being a little naughty boy that I was, I decided
to play a little trick on her. So I picked up a dead cockroach and tried to scare
her. Now we all know that Iranian cockroaches are not exactly the size of the roaches
in North America -- they are huge and crusty.My mission was a success. I scared the poor girl to death. The next day, she refused to speak to me. I remember I used to wait hours by the window to get a glimpse of her. Going to the window and looking up had become a reflex. In fact my mother for a while thought that I had developed a neurological condition. Little did she know that my disease was not to do with the brain but with the heart. At times I saw her and our eyes made contact and then she disappeared. I had become as depressed a young nine-year-old boy could ever become. Shortly after, we left Iran. I remember I had dreams of her for years to come asking her to forgive me, that what I did was wrong and that it was just a joke. After all I didn't know better, I was only nine. What I did know is that I had fallen in love for the first time. A feeling so intense and strong that to this day, after many subsequent relationships, I have not been able to experience. I hope she is happy, wherever she is. At the grocery counter, I smiled at the little girl gave her back her magazine and left.
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