Two pink backpacks: promise of an American Dream

He used to shower us with goodies from America. Every three or four months, the "F-F" would ring around noon time and the "postchee" would announce "basteh". And I would jump from excitement knowing that "bastehs" only came from a distant place named America, and from a grandfather I met once or twice when I was two years old, before he vanished for good.

He would put some clothes in there for my mom and grandma and then little things for me, such as Hello Kittie pencils and erasers and things I could take to school and "poz" with, saying they are from America. By age 11, I think I had the entire Hello Kittie collection. He would also include several Sneaker bars in there which I did not want to share with anyone. Life was good, I tell you.

A couple of times, he gave his friends entire suitecases to bring to us. Now, that was what you would call Christmas in heaven.

Then came the two pink backpacks, several years apart. The first one was soft, and I think it arrived in second grade. I could still feel its softness and smell the brand newness of it. My mom would not let me take it to school for a long time saying it would get dirty, until I pleaded and pleaded and I may have finally just sneaked it with me one day. I sure felt so special and unique with that backpack since no one else in school had it. I felt whole.

Then when the first one wore off in a couple of years, I actually asked him for a new one around fifth grade. This one was pink also but came in the shape of a rectangular box! Surely, once again, no one in school, nor in Tehran for that matter, had anything like it. (I wish I had a photo of it).

So the good feelings of wholeness and uniqueness continued on and on for a bit longer until we left Iran and came to America.

Soon enough, I started looking for similar backpacks, just out of curiosity to see where he had bought them from...and 18 years later, I have yet to find them. I never even asked him where he got them from, being afraid that it may have been a dream only.

At some point, I decided it's best to keep the dream in my mind with the beautiful memory of those two pink backpacks that got me through my elementary school years in Tehran...best to keep it in there with the promises of the American Dream...to believe that one day, the promises will come true...one day, as I wonder around the Mall, I would pass a store which carries those backpacks.