Sad Eyes on A Valentine

Today is Valentine Day. Not that I care for this day as a revocation of the love flowing in my life but I like this day. I like that I can see the love that I feel, I see, I feed from every day in every one’s face.

Today the day that many people in this world celebrate one of the many occasions of their cherished love so occasionally, at the extreme of the love that I feel in my weak pale veins, I am at the final boarder of my physical loneliness.

I am in love. We are in love. We live together. I know you are looking into my eyes asking me then what makes you sit and write these words on this happy day, on this long weekend that you spend days for it to come and bring you the sigh of relief from the daily routine life?

No, dear it is not what you are thinking. We have not quarreled. These past 24 hours our tongues have spent their best artistic talents to express the amount of affection pumped from our hot hearts through the wires of the telephone!

No, it is beyond me, beyond him what sets us apart on this day. What makes me stick to my writing utensils in this cube and makes him find the public library to send me Valentine e-mails and make my day!

It is an old story like dinosaurian COBOL systems. You want to hear me? Hah? You are curious? Sit down and let me open this chest for you. But you have to promise me one thing. That the water running through my eyes when I tell you these will not flow into your curious pupils ever while I talk.

It was 1994. I had just finished my undergrad and had a quite adventurous summer planning for further studies on the other side of the familiar seas. One morning this adventurous head opened the eyes and saw that the good lord seems to want her further those studies near the former old mountains of her land. I was so happy with the simple fact of first rank on the MS entrance exam that I left all the big plans in a packet in a drawer and moved on with the new university and plans. This happiness soon was replaced with frustration. All big expectations of a MS in socioeconomic systems engineering seemed to lead to another theory to decorate the libraries of the Tehran Polytechnic. Generations to come could read my dissertation and take notes as I did with other dissertations but how much of practical work can get done? None. And this bothered me. So hard that I went for the famous alternative the Iranian way: Canada.

Applied for immigration to Canada and my name turned into another historic name in their long list of awaiting people.

Life went on, the MS finished and my dissertation started its anticipated cycle of gathering dust after a hard debate and a big A. PhD came my way but I was not fooled this time. PhD was 25 % or less of my life. My time was devoted to that practical portion that I liked much better. I met a brilliant Avant-garde: Mr. Michael Sakhavi. I was working, studying and my immigration documents were moving on at their own snail wise pace.

This new job made me think of my old left out applications, hopes and dreams after that adventurous summer. To the extent that one-day I could not resist the temptation any more. Opened the drawer and the Genie came out. I told him to take me to US and he did. I do not want to tell you that even Genie head was hit so many times in this way that by the end of the third wish, he was searching for a hair institute to plant some hair and cover all those stabs!

USA was here and I came to it. My Canada dream after 6 years meant to me a pending file that had cost me a fortune and two trips to Syria. Yet, I was keen to see the end of it. At least after all these up and downs and the green dollars having left my small hands towards the big pockets of Canadian embassy I deserved this right, didn’t I?

In USA, Mr. Right and I started experiencing new aspects of a legally bond concubine life together. It happened that Mr. Right was born in Britain and I had the opportunity to see the life, the world, and how a human being from a established country could be treated in US from two aspects and analyze many things, many good moments and so many points to ponder about and murmur: why?

The Canada fable did not leave our lives. He was in this game too but had started it some 4 years later than I had done. The fable followed us from Syria to London and found us at US when I was told that I am admitted, till the time I sent them the medical exams on Feb. 2001, till the very point of buying tickets for April 2002 to go and land on Seattle boarder and get finished with this story after 8 years.

But seems that 8 was not my number. Seemed that world did not want to go the way that my eyes would like it to go. Decided to give me a flavor of its famous uncertainties and it sure did, in its bitter way. On April 2002, the law changed and the US enhanced boarders security act was published. I could not leave states and come back on my legal visa that was not stamped in my purple looking Iranian passport, always winking at me.

It was all the time for a year part of the game plan of my life. A game plan that my hands for it seemed so incapable. A game plan that the law imposed on me, on us and I was just a poor victim with wide-open eyes. The ultimate for me was when I received on 1st Feb. 2003 the notice for our landing before or on 14^th Feb. 2003.

I started my tries. Like a prisoner trying to free himself from his inner prison by removing the wall bricks of his mind. Read all INS laws, contacted Western region boundaries, contacted department of State, and,.. It was Feb. 13^th that I stopped. I looked at my Canada landing visa stamped in my passport and booked my Mr. Right the flight for the only remaining day: 14^th Feb. 2003.

Yes … that is why I am sticking to this machine in here and scribble my old thoughts while he tries to make me happy by talking to me on the phone from across the boarders of beautiful British Columbia and by walking me on a tour round the home to find the surprises he has hidden for me at different corners to make my day…. and I just think: these make me happy but it is only you and you who makes my day, my dear love.

Katayoon Hadizadeh

Los Angeles

14^th Feb. 2003 6:16PM