Tag Archives: persian

Eyebrows Mom fell in love with

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Here is a close up of the details

Details of the Pazyryk Carpet

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I turn to my Dad, sitting on the matching dark gray wool love seat to my right. Once again, he has come to my aid as he always does. His shoulders, still broad, are now curved inward a bit, from a combination of old age and the weight of the pain he has been carrying for decades. These are the shoulders that used to carry me around the house so that I would forget the pain from my wounds whenever I would fall and injure my knees or elbows, a common and almost daily incident. I was a super active child. His perfect shaped head, not too round and not too oblong with well-groomed white hair blending so well with his bald spot, is held in the palm of his left hand now, resting against the arm of the love seat. His eyebrows, still not completely white, are locked in a tight knot. These are the eyebrows my mom fell in love with. She said they resembled a pair of perfectly shaped swords. Now, the swords are engaged in a duel, frozen in horror and sadness. Unlike me, Dad is not staring at the TV. Instead, his dark eyes are fixed on the patterns of the Persian carpet under his feet – the same patterns that taught me harmony, balance, color, and most importantly anticipation.

My dad when he was young with his sword-shape eyebrows

My dad when he was young with his sword-shape eyebrows

Persian Carpets

Persian Carpets

Made in 5th century BC. Discovered in Pazyryk, Siberia.

Pazyryk Carpet - Made in 5th century BC - Discovered in Pazyryk, Siberia.

Story doves

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White Story Doves

White Story Doves

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Now, a set of white doves are sitting on our balcony, looking at me in that funny way only doves do, moving their tiny heads from one side to another. I stare right back at them.

“Hello”, I whisper, “Can you tell me what happened at our house that summer day in 1953?” I smile. “You could if you were Persian Story Doves. But you are not from the stories. You are just doves.” I smile. “You could if you were Persian Story Doves. But you are just doves,” I say to myself. “You can’t even understand me, which is fair since I can’t understand you either.”

“A long, long time ago, when people were still good and kind, they were able to understand the language of animals,” my grandmother would tell us whenever she told stories, not as often as Ezy.

“But I guess the world is now changed and is filled with bad people who are not good enough to understand your tongue,” I say to the doves.