Azadi? What does Azadi mean, mama?
It means Freedom in Farsi, Luna.
The day before Nowruz – Persian New Year. We are at the Persian Bazaar – aka Westwood Blvd. – doing some last-minute shopping. The girls pick out the sonbol – hyacinth – a purple one, of course. Happily they crunch on the ajeel – the nut mix the store owners keep offering them.
Occasionally I’ll be caught standing in front of the fridge or the pantry – a blank look on my face – desperately staring down the goods – hoping that this time, all the produce, legumes and grains have magically developed telepathic powers to convey to me how to prepare them in a mouth watering, nutritious fashion for the whole family to enjoy. It is a losing battle. As my six year old Luna is quick to remind me.
The salty air. The very salty sea. A warm seaside breeze. Hair tangled and knotted in the wind – sticking to very salty lips.
These are my memories of Shomal – North.
Memories can be very elusive, hard to pin down. They tease us with a hazy snap shot of what once was – a time long since passed. A familiar scent, taste, the caress of a warm breeze.
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