The yard is filled with spring flowers. The radio plays spring music. The home is all clean. People are rushing to do their last minute shopping. The aroma of fresh homemade cookies is coming from the next door neighbor. I feel the arrival of Amoo Nowruz in my heart!
I am not a young girl anymore and neither a mere wife.
The fact is spring blossoms are blooming inside me. I’m going to become spring myself! It feels as if I am a mature tree which will bear fruits in a few months.
This year, the fragrance of spring gives me a different feel.
From now on, I feel I am the one liable to bring happiness to home. Bringing a cup of pleasant tea after a tough day of spring cleaning is not my mom’s duty any more, but me.
I am the person who should make the voice of tired and exhausted father calm and happy and I am the one who should make tasty Nowruz cuisines to make my child acquainted with her culture and roots.
I am the one who should grow sprouts at home to make my child happy seeing the growth of seeds at her home.
I am the one who should help my child make colorful eggs to make her to have a share in practicing Nowruz traditions.
And I am the one who should bring the smell of love among the smell of spring buds despite all difficulties of life.
The spring rain brings a high responsibility in my farm. I am taking the responsibility of transferring traditions and culture to my children as my mom did to me.
I am now deeply grateful to my mom for making Nowruz traditions a beautiful and yet perpetual experience in my heart and mind.
May the best ever spring, Nowruz and happy New Year, 1398, be for all Iranian mothers!