I had just been accepted at the University of Tehran, along with six classmates from Rasht. We’d registered and all that remained was to pack our stuff up from home and move into our shared dorm room. The night all five roommates-to-be were finally ready to board the bus and set off for Tehran, our families came to bid us farewell.Being the sensitive woman she is, my mother had a hard time letting me go. After all, I was moving to the big capital hours away and she wasn’t going to be there to look after me. I was nervous too, but the excitement of starting college was greater. My main concern was her not making a dramatic scene before my departure. I tried my best to calm her down before saying goodbye and taking my seat.The bus was running late and still stationary. Delay is typical with Iranian busses, so I started chatting away with my high-school friends. Suddenly my friend stops and as I follow his gaze down the aisle, I see my mother standing at the front of the bus. She’s barely controlling her tears, her eyes still wet, and as she lifts her hand rather shyly to point me out to the bus steward, she says “that’s my son.”It was the cutest thing ever. Just how you’d expect an innocent child to ask a grown-up to intervene and solve a problem too big to handle. I forgot the urge to look macho in front of my friends and walked towards her with a huge smile on my face. I loved her so much in that moment that I put up no fight when she said she wanted to come along. We walked back down the aisle and she purchased a seat close by. I still remember the delight in her face after triumphantly securing a couple hours more together.
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