A Day of Reunion and Reflection
After reading one of my stories recently, Susanne, an English friend from boarding school days, wondered how she could enter one of my stories. Easy, one summer many, many years ago, in the early sixties, Susanne had come to Tehran with her parents to visit one of their relatives who lived there at that time. Susanne, my sister Nora, our friend Vivian and I had gone to the same boarding school in Bexhill on Sea, Sussex, England. Nora, Vivian and Susanne were in the same form. I was in a higher form. We were all out of school by the time of this story.
When Susanne arrived in Tehran sometime in the 1960’s, she got in touch with Vivian and stayed with her for a few days. As an aside Vivian’s parents and ours were good friends. That is why the three of us were in the same boarding school. At any rate Nora and I went to Vivian’s home to see her. We then invited them to our home to spend the next day with us.
It was the beginning of summer before the weather got too hot. Tehran is situated at the foot of the Alborz Mountain. The weather is always dry. There is no humidity all year round. In the summertime during the daytime it is warm but by the evening it is pleasantly cool. All homes have high walls surrounding them, for privacy is quite important in our culture.
Our home had high marble and two huge metal gates with a long driveway to allow two or three cars to park. Upon entering the gate to the property Vivian and Susanne walked almost to the end, on the some sour cherry trees flanked one side of the property, followed by an arched trellis from which grape vines dangled down. In summers we ate our breakfasts underneath them. The vines kept the archway cool and breezy.
That day Nora and I were thrilled that Susanne and Vivian had come to spend the day with us. Knowing some of our friends we spending the day, Soltan and Khatoon proceeded to pile up the various breakfast dishes. They brought different egg dishes, there were various cheeses, salads, fruit, a variety hot breads. As Vivian and Susanne walked up the walk, our dog, Bingo trotted up to them and joyfully greeted them! He was rewarded with a pat on the head. His tail wagged excitedly for he loved company. He followed us to where the table was set for us far a late breakfast. He lay by my side listening to us chattering excitedly, catching up with each other’s news. Mama came out of the house. She was on her way to a coffee clatch at one of her friends’ home. Vivian and Susanne both got up. We introduced Susanne to Mama. Mama gave her a penetrating look and decided she liked her. She leaned forward and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Welcome,” she said. Susanne smiled warmly. She felt at ease with our mother. Then Mama turned to Vivian. She opened her arms and gave her a huge hug. I can still picture the warmth of the smile on Vivian’s face as she enveloped Mama back in a warm loving hug! Who could resist Vivian’s genuine smile. “Hello Auntie,” she said with a big smile. After a bit of chit chat, Mama excused herself and hurried off to meet her friends.
Khatoon cleared up the table. She asked if there was anything else we required. We did we did not. We changed into our swimming suits and walked towards the pool. The four of us lounged by the pool. We sunbathed and jumped into the pool to cool down every now and then. The birds were having a cheerful conversation among themselves. The breeze was rustling the leaves. Mama’s mint bushes emitted a delicious scent when Bingo decided to take a nap in the midst of them. And we chatted on and on. As the day wore on, the weather got warmer. The swimming pool faced the house. Bushes of forsythia flanked one side of the pool. A weeping willow shaded another corner of the pool. Part of its branches teasingly leaned in and dipped inside the water, as if to cool themselves. The pool was filled with ice cold water that came from our own well. It was scintillatingly refreshing! I guess that is why I dislike heated swimming pools. To me, they feel like I am taking a bath not going for a swim. I was used to swimming in ice cold pools. We swam for a while then sunbathed. Bingo swam alongside us. We chatted and caught up with each other’s news. It was delightful having Vivian and Susanne over.
Midday, my parents returned for lunch. In honour of Susanne and Vivian being there, instead of serving one dish, Soltan prepared three different dishes. We do not serve desserts after a meal. We serve fruits. Soltan and Khatoon brought out platters of different fruits and thimble sized glasses of tea. The conversation was merry. Papa was a great raconteur. He enjoyed enjoyed company and enjoyed an audience. Because of the summer heat work begins at seven o’clock in the morning. Everyone comes home for lunch and a siesta until four in the after. From four to seven or work resumes again.
In the evenings we would usually gather in the garden with friends or we would all meet at Sarband, at the foot of the mountains. The air was always cool in the evening. The kebabis would be doing a brisk business barbecuing calves liver, hearts, kidneys and sweetbreads. Crowds would eagerly await their orders. The evening air is cool and refreshing and appetites are stimulated. We would order different kebabs and sit with our feet tucked underneath us on one of the different wooden bed like platforms on top of the river of melted snow that rushes into the city as we ate. Our background music is the sound of the roaring river as it rushed down towards the city. But that night we sat in the quiet of the garden listening to the crickets serenading us as we all had a light supper on the veranda. At nine o’clock, Vivian and Susanne got to leave. It had been a very special day, a delightful day! It is always lovely to meet good friends. Looking back now, I marvel how fast the time flew. We were young then and now we can be called, dare I say older ladies?
I ponder for a moment about our lives when we were young. That moment has come and gone. We are approaching the winter of our lives. I look up from my writing and I realize that it is dusk. It is winter, a week away from Christmas. The world outside is hushed. It is getting darker and darker. Night time approaches quickly. I haven’t yet drawn my curtains yet. My lit chandelier is reflected against the windowpane, I don’t know why, but that comforts me. Day is done; the year is almost done. I feel alone, so triste. As if she senses that, Pussycat approaches me and rubs against my ankle. With a little sigh, I get up and draw the curtains shut. I pick her up and hug her to me. She purrs softly. We find comfort in each other.