Odyssey of ...1- Autumn in Two Cities

Dallas, 1980-
It is a cold, dreadful, rainy fall day. The dismal rain keeps beating against the surface of the Meandering Way. The howl of wind growls like an angry dog; and the gloomy, gushing sound of the water gurgles from every roof top and porch onto the pavement. The ground is covered by the orange, red, and brown leaves. The fresh fragrance of the wet soil fights with the mournful wind. Reminder of the tree leaves which have survived the harsh fall wind are in the fierce battle with nature. They one by one are defeated and their fall adds tot he thickness of the colorful, wet carpet of street and pavement. The narrow brook is flooded by the anger of nature. Water washes the dead leaves and violently sweeps them down the street. A sudden lightening in the gray horizon follows by a loud thunder. An open window of a house keeps whipping drearily against wall; and a yellowish lace drape is out of a window next door and moves wildly with the harshness of the blow. It finally stops when a branch of a tree grabs it like the teeth of an predator thrust into the throat of its victim. Raging nature is in control while furious people are behind their closed doors and windows are praying for sunshine. It is a dreadful moment- a real autumn afternoon, dank, misty; a moment pregnant with colds, ague, and fears. A man is disappearing into the whirl of the wind.
The small living room indicates a very modest life of its occupant. There is a faded brown sofa on one side, a cheap, shaky coffee table in front of it; and a Sony 19" television is on on the opposite side of the room. The television is placed on a heavy cardboard box. No pictures on the wall except and eight by eleven family photo.
Hana is standing impatiently behind the window of the living room; ignoring the call of her sons. She has the faded, off white curtain wrapped around herself, as some other time in a very far past. A bone chilling cold through the cracks of window which faces the street shivers her all over. She feels a tingling numbness in her feet and overworked fingers. Standing there motionless for a long time brings her dizziness. The early Sunday afternoon looks like a dark, frightening night. The tall tree in front of the window blocks her view, and she can not see the beginning of the street, where it starts from Spring Valley Road; and where the pedestrians try to reach their homes. The anxiety of an unknown waiting reminds her of many years earlier, a rainy fall day back home. Too far back to remember every little things that created great confusion and influenced her life; yet too close to her heart of an early, childish, poppy type love, that have left a dark shadow in her soul.
She recalls that fall day distinctly suddenly. She can see herself standing next to the window, as she is now, and praying to see the tall figure she admired secretly. She saw him everyday at that time. Quivering of cold, she buries her face with her hands and tears drop through slit between her fingers. She did not plan any of these. Her dreams and hops have vanished.
Tehran, 1958-

To Be Continued