Chapter 17
LaylaTehran
May 2001
It is May and all the snow has melted. The mountains are
bare rock with valleys of cypress trees, the gardens of Shemiran are
lush-green and the skiers have packed up their skis.
Norouz has been and gone, a whirlwind of picnics
and presents. I helped Maman with the Haft Seen, arranging the
goldfish, sabzi and painted eggs. Aunty Afrouz pressed a gold coin
into my palm when we went to visit. “Your luck will change this year, I
can feel it,” she whispered kindly.
Yesterday, I went to my uncle’s grave. I knelt beside
it and washed the stone with rosewater while the sun blazed in the sapphire
sky. I rested in the shade for a while, thinking of him; then I left, for
there were other visits to be made. I wasn’t sad to go. I knew he would be
with me
