Change.
My mom use to say that Iran had the most beautiful skies.
I remember her always talking about how beautiful the blue skies were, and that no matter how bad the weather got, there was always this odd tint of blue that would manage to seep through. In her foreign-chopped english, she would always tell me just how much she loved those blue skies. She still talks about it from time to time. Whenever it's a beautiful day, she mentions those skies. Anytime it gets too hot, she mentions those skies. Anytime it gets too cloudy, she mentions those skies.
My mom fucking loved those skies.
I actually remember her pointing it out to me when we went to Iran together all those years ago. I was too young to really understand it (or for that matter, remember it), but I got the gist, and I now realize that anytime the weather is shitty, I'm subcontiously comparing it to those skies. I was lucky enough to get to watch them for three months when I was young; my 8 year old brother has yet to bask in them.
This post is simply for me to be able to remember this moment weeks, months, years from now.
I want to remember pride. I want to remember power. I want to remember what it felt like the moment I realized that my generation had come together to help support a push for a better future. A moment where we were all a part of changing everything forever.
At the very least, I want to be able to look back at my naiveté if, god forbid, everything ends up getting worse.
But for now, I'm simply hopeful and, above all else, happy. I'm happy for me and my generation, but most importantly, I'm happy for my mom. My mom, who called me crying with joy, who kept reminding me that everything would get better, who continuously looked at those blue skies from a childhood gone as something to emulate, not remember.
For her, I hope that tomorrow's skies are bluer than she could ever imagine.
I remember her always talking about how beautiful the blue skies were, and that no matter how bad the weather got, there was always this odd tint of blue that would manage to seep through. In her foreign-chopped english, she would always tell me just how much she loved those blue skies. She still talks about it from time to time. Whenever it's a beautiful day, she mentions those skies. Anytime it gets too hot, she mentions those skies. Anytime it gets too cloudy, she mentions those skies.
My mom fucking loved those skies.
I actually remember her pointing it out to me when we went to Iran together all those years ago. I was too young to really understand it (or for that matter, remember it), but I got the gist, and I now realize that anytime the weather is shitty, I'm subcontiously comparing it to those skies. I was lucky enough to get to watch them for three months when I was young; my 8 year old brother has yet to bask in them.
This post is simply for me to be able to remember this moment weeks, months, years from now.
I want to remember pride. I want to remember power. I want to remember what it felt like the moment I realized that my generation had come together to help support a push for a better future. A moment where we were all a part of changing everything forever.
At the very least, I want to be able to look back at my naiveté if, god forbid, everything ends up getting worse.
But for now, I'm simply hopeful and, above all else, happy. I'm happy for me and my generation, but most importantly, I'm happy for my mom. My mom, who called me crying with joy, who kept reminding me that everything would get better, who continuously looked at those blue skies from a childhood gone as something to emulate, not remember.
For her, I hope that tomorrow's skies are bluer than she could ever imagine.