I checked and rechecked all the closets, all the drawers to make sure that I have not left anything behind. I clean the kitchen floor, the bathrooms, and the hallways. I take care of our sweet home of 25 years as always, except that this is the last day I stay here. This is the last night I am going to be in my room. My room that has seen me in all possible states. My joys, my sorrows, my first times, my deceptions, my goodbyes. I have my heart in my throat but I try to keep calm. I hear the echo of my footsteps in the empty rooms as if the walls are talking to me. I go to the balcony and smoke my last cigar while enjoying the flickering of the night lights. Memories are flooding in my mind and tears starts to flow. It’s the worst feeling to realize there is no parental home anymore. No nest to go back if needed. I feel uprooted and abandoned in space. Since I move away from Iran sixteen years ago, my stable point was this apartment. My ritual of going back “home” to be recharged will no longer exist.
Somehow though this busy trip was a salvation. I was the one who had to empty the house, and close the door. I had to say a proper goodbye and make sure everything was taken care of correctly. I owed it to myself, to my parents and to our home. Goodbyes are the hardest part in life but the most important closures that let us go forward. It’s a great chance to be able to close the circle. Many times we are left with a void not knowing when was the “last time”.
Tomorrow morning I will wake up and say hello to the beautiful mountains for the last time. I will take my tea as I always did before leaving to the airport. I hated all those teas, and all those goodbyes. This time, I will lock the door of our apartment knowing that a big part of my life will be locked forever behind me inside those empty rooms. I will take the memories with me and hope, only hope, that I will be strong enough to continue in this new rootless state.