I guess I know now that I will never see Isfahan. I am just too old.. I will never smell the spices in her spice market, nor will I see the weavers’ making carpets. I will never walk up the steps of the temple nor will I see or hear the minarets sing. There are so many things I will never see. I don’t care about most of them, but I do care about Isfahan. I don’t know why, but from the time I met my mother-in-law, and she told me of the beauty there and I have been longing to go.

She left Iran in 1949 and moved to the states with her husband believing she could have a better life here. She is dead now, but I think if you could ask her, she would say she was glad that she moved. She was not someone that could reflect on her life and maybe say she could’ve done something differently. It was very important to her to create a perfect past. She had four children: she was left with one at her death.

I don’t think he was enough to make up for all those losses. No one could be. We liked each other because we recognized a similar survivor tendency. For a while I needed her and she needed me, but we never admitted that. I loved her stories. I loved her dreams. I love the way no matter what, she stood tall despite her 5-foot two height, and refused to admit that anything hadn’t gone the way she wanted it to.

I’m so sad about the Persian people because they’re so gifted in their thought and creative energy and beautiful creations. I wish their country was ruled by a democracy, not a dictatorship. I hate seeing the women with their heads covered and reading about the police who rejoice in arresting anyone who doesn’t follow their rules.

I applaud those that fight. I was never brave enough to fight, but I long to be a fighter.

Some of the most beautiful art in the world has been created in Persia yet now its citizens barely have room to breathe.

The golden minarets and I will probably never meet. I can’t help but think these things should not have been denied to me. There is no logic to this deprivation. If only I could have seen them my imagination could be complete. Somehow, I could think of some way to help.

I feel the call to prayer though I stopped praying long ago. I believe that if I were there, I would be praying. I would be standing in front of the armies and the bombs and the missiles and the drones saying no stop don’t destroy civilization. I like to say that, and I like to believe it, but I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do to stop this. We will lose so much if we let this continue.