The Streets Had All Changed

All the street names had changed. I struggled from alley to alley, asking directions, until I reached his door. I was terribly anxious. I didn’t know what I would say if he opened it, or how I could face him. I took a breath and rang the bell. An old man’s voice called, “Wait, I’m coming. The intercom’s broken.” I could hear his steps and the tap of his cane. My heart raced. He opened the door and said, “Hello, son…” Then he stopped short and said nothing. I couldn’t speak either. He had grown so old and frail. I pulled myself together. “Hello, Father… Do you know me?” “I’m your younger self,” I said. “I’ve come from years ago, from the time of the national revolution. I’ve taken a few wounds…” “I know you… but I don’t know what to say.” “I came to ask you what happened. Did we free our Iran? Did all our efforts bear fruit?” “It was hard, but we did. Keep doing what you’re doing. Tell everyone to stay together. Don’t split apart. Look after one another…” “What is it like now? Was it worth it?” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Every step taken for our homeland is worth more than diamonds…” “Are you happy now?” “Now I’m living. In your time, I was only alive…” May the day come when we see ourselves happy and victorious in the tomorrow of a free Iran… Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.