A Memory of Home

Dear Delyara, I smelled rain on hot pavement today, and for a split second, I was ten years old again, standing in my grandmother’s garden. It’s strange how a scent can hijack your brain and transport you across decades. Back then, my biggest worry was whether it would stop raining in time for me to go outside. Now, the world is so much more complicated, and the problems are so much heavier. I wish I could go back and tell that child to enjoy the simplicity while it lasts. I’m trying to bring some of that childhood safety into Delyara—a place where you don't have to be anything but yourself.