Winter
Memories sparkle like icicles hanging from the roof
December 5, 2003
The Iranian
I open the window in the early morning to let some fresh air
in. Southern California never gets cold and there's no snow
where we live, but I know it is winter. The humming birds have
left and the flowers in my garden are sleepy. Soon I'll trim
the rose bushes. There's no sign of a real winter and yet,
I can feel it. The neighbor's pools get drained and people
begin to wear sweaters.
It is as beautiful here in winter as
any other time of the year, but I'm feeling the old familiar
blues and wonder why? Is it because of this glittery holiday
which isn't mine? Is it the end of yet another idle year? Or
is it just me aging and getting grumpy? All I know is that
moving from a very cold climate to the sunny state has not
made too much of a difference in that nagging winter blues.
I open iranian.com and look at the black and
white photograph
of winter on the front cover. The vivid image
makes
me wonder
if someone else knows winter the same way I do. I hear the breathing
of dying animals. Their breath forms little weak clouds before
them. I feel the cold limbs of those rams and lie down on the
snowy ground by their side and dream of a place that used to
be.
Then I think about my grandmother's Korsi in the
late afternoon and how toasty my toes felt as she poured me a
glass of hot tea.
I lean back against the large cushion and pull the quilt up to
my chin and plan on building a snowman as soon as I am warm enough
to face the cold outdoors. I snack on the dried fruits and nuts
she presented in a bowl. The future is mine and nothing can make
me doubt that.
I came from a generation of limited toys and no
entertainment. Knee deep snow meant an excuse to stay at school
for lunch and
a simple birthday party presented an event to look forward to.
Life was simple and there was never a need to "plan" anything.
Education was free and, for a good student in the middle class,
the road was clear. Family ties were tight and support came in
abundance. I felt content and secure.
Now that middle class is all over the world. We
have exchanged our korsi for a central heating, yet feel the
deep freeze more
than ever.
We have reared a generation who has so much more:
more toys, more entertainment and many more options. Yet
they are neither content nor secure. They do not know which option
to take and lack that security which we took for granted.
They
work hard, yet have no jobs, they have toys, but are bored,
they have entertainment but are unable to enjoy. Winter, for
them,
is nothing but cold weather and they will never know how
it feels to sit around a grandmother's korsi and eat snow with
syrup
on
top.
Who had more? I wonder.
Happy memories can turn into sorrow with passage
of time. I think what I feel is not the air. Perhaps it is the
chill of nostalgia
that gets me down. The muffled sounds of long ago will never
leave. Memories sparkle like icicles hanging from the roof.
Winter chill is in me, even on a sunny California
day.
About
Zohreh Khazai Ghahremani is a retired dentist and a freelance
writer. She lives in San Diego, California. Top
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