Odyssey... 30- Awakening

They say Texas weather is like a blink of an eye, and isn't it the truth? While Valery was lucky enough to marry in a pleasant seventy degree two days ago, now a bone chilling cold, as the weather man says from somewhere in North, fills Dallas. For the first time Hana sees snow flurries in Dallas. She recalls that Mario was telling her that the weather would change last night. Overcome by the bliss, she pulls the comforter all the way to her face until only her eyes are visible. As much as she loves four seasons to act upon their names, "FOUR SEASONS" and what nature has intended them to be, the sudden freezing weather shivers her to a degree that even in her bed she feels like she is chilled to her inner self. She forces herself to get up and go to the living room where the thermostat is and put the heat on; however, she immediately returns to bed, where the cold surface of mattress awaits her. She does not know why her nature for enduring cold has changed. Is it because she had lost sensibility for different seasons, as she has lived in Dallas for last eleven years, or is it because of her age, as she had read somewhere that older people endurance for cold is less than younger ones?

Age has always been a big issue for people no matter where they are from. The American perspective of age, as many other things, is so different than the country she was born that really makes her wonder why people who all are all people think and feel so differently. An Iranian child is repeatedly bombarded by the statement that his or her parents are old. As the child grows, he perceives that the cutting point between youth and maturity for women is around forty and for men is around fifty. Whereas in America there is not such a thing. Americans never admit that they are old. At age sixty some begins a new life, a new family, go to school; and all is because they think they are young.

As she has adopted American culture slowly, this one issue perplexes her greatly. At age forty three, most of the time she feels old, as the women in Iran do; however, sometimes like this morning, she believes that she is young. Ironically, one thing bewilders her, if she is young, why she is shivering of cold? These type of things might be non issue for many; but to her are discoveries about herself. She remembers the cold, snowy winters of Tehran, when the snow gave her life, the freeze gave her warmth, and the steam coming out of her mouth animated her and gave her energy. She was more active, more creative, and nothing could stop her of getting out in the snow and touching that great, white carpet, nature's beautiful exhibition. Back then, as her bed was set next to the window, she breathed the frozen air while the flurries came inside through the open window on her bed and covered her face and her hair. Of course she could not do this if Hamid was home and next to her; but since most of the time he was God knows where, she enjoyed opening the window on snowy nights. In the morning her frozen comforter seemed like a piece of wood. She recalls how much she loved to fold areas of the frozen bedding to hear the breakage of ice in its texture. Was that great endurance for cold because of her youth? Is that was so, she must be old now, very old, since she can not bear the cold any longer. As she tosses in her bed, thinking about old days, and feeling her freezing body can not take the cold anymore, she yearns Mario. "Oh, I wish he was here to warm me to a degree of burning."

When Farhad opens the door of her bedroom and comes in, She is conjuring up the night before when for the first time she knew that she was desirous.

"Mom, aren't you going to work? It's eight o'clock."

The unpleasant interruption moves all her sensible nerves.

"I'm on vacation this week. Sam is coming home tomorrow."

"You didn't tell me about it, how come?"

"I don't know. I must have forgotten because of Valery's wedding."

To Be Continued