Stars of Tehran
It is past ten o’clock in the evening. The fireworks this Fourth of July are so loud and disconcerting that I was not able to concentrate on reading a book in the bedroom, nor listen to music, and not even watch television. “Why don’t you sit on the porch and watch the fireworks?” my son suggested, as he left for his house. I did. The sound of the fireworks is irritating. The rude New York drivers with their blaring horns and offensive language infringing on our residential streets leave much to be desired; but the weather this evening is so delightful. There is a cool crisp breeze.
It reminds me of the cool evening mountain air in Tehran. We would sit in the garden until late at night. The dark velvet skies would be sprinkled with stars that glittered and mischievously winked across its huge expanse. A full moon, suspended in that glorious sky, would smile down upon us. The crickets would sing their sibilant tune. We would speak in hushed voices, not wanting to disturb the serenity of night. As the hours crept towards midnight, we would reluctantly prepare to go to bed.
Summers, we slept on the terraced roof. We had iron beds and fluffed cotton mattresses and quilts. Our bed linens were crisply starched and ironed. Our pillows were soft feather ones. As we stretched out on our beds, we looked out onto the heavenly skies. The stars twinkled silently, the crickets hummed their lullaby. Our eyelids grew heavy and soon we sank into a deep, peaceful slumber.
I hope you had a pleasant Fourth of July in this unusual 2020 pandemic year…