Memories of Home

In the peaceful stillness of the house, Grandma Stella reflects on the passage of time marked by the steady ticking of an old clock and the gentle sway of autumn foliage. Memories of upheaval and lost belongings intertwine with the resilience of nature, as a single pink rose and fallen leaves symbolize the cycle of farewells and new beginnings.

The house is silent. The old clock in the hallway is steadily moving. Tick tock, tick tock, like a little swing in a child’s garden it sways back and forth, back and forth, never ceasing its movement. It is an old friend and companion to me. It has shared many things in my life. It witnessed part of my childhood, my young motherhood; it has witnessed our upheaval from Iran to here. It traveled across continents and was misplaced for many months in the bottom of a San Francisco warehouse lot, along with the rest of my parents’ and my household goods. A year after we arrived, they found the container with our property. We had imagined that they were lost just as we had lost our homes and our old way of life. Imagine our delight when they we’re found.

As I look out to the garden a single brave pink rose leans forward to greet me. It sways in the autumn breeze. The crimson and golden foliage bravely hang on to the tree branches, reluctant to say goodbye. Some of their siblings have already drifted down upon the grass and have made a bed for the rest to lie on. It’s a late Sunday morning. The world outside is peaceful and still. And my old clock goes tick tock, tick tock… And time steadily marches by with a tick and a tock, a tock and a tick, season after season, year after year. It bids farewell to some of us and greets a hearty welcome to new arrivals. And the autumn leaves steadily drift to the ground…