Your Everyday Girl

I wasn’t very vocal about my background growing up. I should have been, but I wasn’t. I was merely a kid with large round glasses who hoped no one would pay attention to her.

Do you remember when teachers would take attendance first before class was to begin? I would wince every time my name was called because the teacher would just butcher the pronunciation of my last name. It was irritating to have to re-pronounce the name for them over and over again. I was fine with “Sara,” but I was having a hard time appreciating “Salarvand,” my last name.

The country I was birthed in, the city I first opened my little baby eyes to was Tehran, Iran. My parents and I had to leave the country almost immediately and any understanding of my background was stitched onto me by my own parents. Being Iranian was something I had to learn over the years. Iran is known for poetry, art, history, and a very rich culture, but there’s still more to it.

I first stepped foot onto the land that I was born in when I was in the seventh grade. The airport was highly busy and the air just smelled different. We walked over towards our exit when I first saw a large group of people looking at my family and I through the window. They were yelling and smacking the window to get our attention. My first thought was “Who are these people staring at me and my family?” My sister and I were frozen as we looked back at a group of nearly twenty people with eyes soaked in happiness.

Entering Iran meant entering a life that looked and felt nothing like Canada. There was no silence, no early nights in, no simple dinners, no lonely days, and no time to think. Everything that shaped me into the twelve year old that I was had been tested and I loved it. It was definitely hot there and sweating until your clothes were soaked was normal, and everyone experienced it so I wasn’t alone.

Our extended family on both my mom’s and dad’s side are quite…extensive. During our first trip we stayed for a month (and during our second trip we stayed for two months during the summer) and I don’t think there was one day where we sat and did nothing. I remember their names and their voices and their warmth. They gave off an energy that not even the sun had. Love and joy was not of short supply there and every ounce was shared whether it was through discussion, food, music, dance, or the three part cheek-to-cheek greeting kisses.

There was so much dancing to enjoy, especially on my mom’s side of the family. On the right is my late grandmother from my mom’s side.

I felt like I was starting to understand the meaning of family. My last name was no longer a myth to me. For context my last name means “Great (or grand) Family” and it felt so fitting.

I’ll never forget how we constantly travelled in a car meant for five people, when there were six of us.

Or how travelling throughout the desert was empty but vast, the wind would blow in your face to cool you down as if the desert really wanted you to just enjoy the moment.

Or the time when we my sister and I got the tallest ice cream with our grandparents in the middle of this beautiful park that had a river running through it.

Or the time when we pushed through the busy Bazaar full of jewelry, clothes, food, and tea.

Or the time when we visited the Tomb of Hafez’ in Shiraz (a memorial site for a world renowned poet).

Or the time when I got to experience two weddings, in one summer. In Canada, I’m lucky if I experience one wedding within a five year time span.

I can’t tell you the names of the streets I walked on, the prices of goods in the market, or what the latest trend was, but I can tell you that every street had time written on it, every item was unique, and materialism had no place next to family.

I had seen so much from one house to the next, one family to another, that I couldn’t believe my own eyes. I had been raised for so many years without this type of vibrancy, color, and energy and thrown into a polar opposite lifestyle. And I loved every waking minute.

I wish I could relive that experience. I wish I could relive that very moment knowing who I was looking at and who I was about to embrace with open arms. There is a distance between us all now, but a piece of my heart is there and I only wish I could go back someday soon so that my heart does not remain broken.

I never thought I would go from a girl who wanted to stay hidden to a girl that fully appreciated her existence. My family in Iran embraced me and wanted me to belong and that type of love and attention was more than I’d ever hoped for.

Iran will always be a reminder of what family means to me. And if anyone mispronounces my last name, I’m happy to correct them.

Your everyday girl,

Sara