An Autumn Day
It was a beautiful autumn morning in Tehran. It was a Friday, the equivalent of a Sunday in other parts of the world. My mother and my sisters were at home. Mama was still in bed resting from all the preparations of the day before for my birthday party!
My sisters were in their bedroom playing quietly. I was wide awake. I was dressed and ready to go. I was excited for that day was my birthday! It was also a national holiday. It was the Shah’s birthday. There would be celebrations the whole day through. I felt so special, sharing my birthday with the Shah! I was to have my own party that afternoon.
Mama had ordered a cake and they made food to feed an army, for Mama never knew how to make just enough. She was always worried people would starve, which was highly unlikely! There were little gifts for all the boys and girls that were invited. Their parents were invited as well. There were easily thirty to forty guests at each birthday celebration.
Since Papa and I were the only two dressed, Papa suggested we should take a walk. The weather was a bit brisk. Papa was dressed in grey wool flannel pants, a knit woollen top, and a jacket. I had on a grey skirt, and a hand-knit pink and white striped angora top and a little jacket.
As we left home, on the quiet residential street where we lived, we turned left, heading towards Pahlavi Avenue. Pahlavi Avenue was a wide majestic street. On each side, the avenue was flanked by tall plane trees. Beside them were the jubes where the stream of melted mountain snow rushed into the city to provide the trees sustenance. The sound of the water as it hurried by was so soothing and calming.
It was early morning as we walked. The leaves were lazily falling down from the trees in vibrant autumnal colors. It seemed each leaf vied with the other in the hue of its beauty. Crimson, rust, ochre, golds, they were breathtakingly stunning. The little girl that I used to be could not resist kicking them as she passed by. The mature woman that I now am pictures the leaves that showered upon us.
Somewhere on a side street, someone was burning the fallen leaves in large heavy metal drums. I loved the smell. It was the smoky smell of autumn. It climbed up into the air, wafting their aroma through the morning sky. Somewhere, it seemed to tell all and sundry that autumn had arrived in all its glory.
As we walked contentedly that autumn morning, Papa held my left hand. Every once in a while, I would push up the sleeve of my cardigan. I did not want to be too obvious about it, but the night before my parents had given me my very own grown-up watch! It was a Borel Fils, a gold-faced watch with Roman numerals. I was so proud of it.
Papa smiled as he noticed my pushing my sleeve up. ‘’Do you want everyone to see your new watch?’’ he asked fondly. ‘’Is that why you keep pushing your sleeve up?’’ ‘’Oh no Papa! My arm feels very hot!’’ I replied in what I thought was a grown-up manner! I can still hear my Papa chuckling in amusement all these many years later.
Why did I not say, ‘Yes, Papa! I am oh so very proud of it! I am so lucky to have loving parents such as you!’ But I was only seven years old and did not know any better.