The door opens to

Cheek kisses and tight hugs from people I sometimes

Don’t even remember,

But they talk of how I was so cute when I was no more than four

and talk of how I have grown so much.

The chatter of family members

Unseen for years

Is sometimes loud and intense, others quiet and secretive.

We speak our own language. Not just Farsi,

But that of memories and family.

The women in the kitchen discuss family recipes,

Helping cook the meal of the first night of their visit.

The next night’s meals could be much less hurried

And much more extravagant.

They talk of their successful children,

Lawyers, doctors,

And complain of the ones whom they think

Will never become anything more than a disappointment

The young children look on, listen to the tales of success and caution,

Think of which they will be.

The smell of delicious food yet to be served

Tortures both children and adults as their mouths water.

Once the adults gather around the table,

And the children gather around theirs,

Everyone has the same thought.

“!ﺑﺨﺮﯾﻢ دﯾﮕﻪ”

(Let’s eat already!)