It was Friday evening and as usual I had to spend all my Friday in the house. I was so tired it was even hard to breathe. But I didn’t know what I was tired of: my repetitive office work, my assignments or maybe my life that was losing its meaning. I didn’t want to talk or hear anyone else talk. I even ignored my mother, who was inviting me to drink a cup of tea.

I wanted to go somewhere and think for few moments. I went to the yard; it was raining softly on the roses and sunflowers. I sat on the step and felt a bit chilled. For a moment, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath so that I could easily feel the fresh air.

Suddenly the mint bush my mother had recently planted came to my notice. Involuntarily, I walked toward it and saw the rain dewed on its green leaves, and then picked some of it. Its scent spread out in the air. The sweet smell reminded me of a picnic I had with my friends the year before in Iran. With a group of twenty girlfriends, I went to a place outside the city of Mashhad, called Shanddiz. It was indescribably beautiful. The abutting hills were covered with apricot and apple trees. The singing of birds among the trees soothed everyone’s ears. The pieces of cloud in the blue sky were like someone had painted them. After some hours of playing and walking around, two of the girls brought some wood to cook a traditional “kabab” for lunch. While they were cooking, I went to get water and noticed some mints growing under the trees. The freshness of the water and the scent of mint left a lovely feeling in me.

While I was pondering those sweet memories, my mother called me again, “Zakia, your tea is getting cold!” I felt refreshed and didn’t have my Friday sadness anymore. I smiled and replied, “Okay, Mom, I am coming,” and I broke off some mint leaves for her.

By Zakia