Ali Radmehr, Iran
Before the explosion woke me, I was dreaming. I dreamt I was walking; there was a huge gap between each of my steps. One foot would sink into something soft; the other hit hard ground. And suddenly, my leg became so heavy that I couldn’t lift it. Then I heard a distant explosion, and everything around me began to shudder.
I jolted awake, shaken. The dream lingered—a tall apartment building sinking into the ground, swallowed by a cloud of thick dust.
I stumbled out of bed and hurried to the living room. Dad was standing by the window, peering out into the darkness. My sister had woken too, her voice trembling as she asked, “What’s happening?”
Dad turned and saw the two of us standing in shock in the middle of the room. He was biting into an apple with a smile on his face. My sister moved closer, pressing her face against the window. “What are those lights?” she whispered.
“Why are you two awake?”
Mom appeared in the hallway, her hair messy and fluffed up.
“Don’t you both have school tomorrow?” She glanced at Dad. “What’s going on?”
Dad took another bite of his apple, then closed the curtain. “It’s nothing. Just war,” he said. Mom chuckled. “What does that even mean?”
She walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back. “What happens now?” I asked.
Dad flipped on the TV, scrolling through the channels. “Nothing’s going to happen, dear. Go back to bed.”
Mom added, “Isn’t Ms. Shahabi gonna take a quiz tomorrow?” My sister shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t sleep like this.”
Mom brushed her off. “It’s four-thirty. You both need to be up in a few hours.” She turned to Dad, seeming to remember something. “Is Soheil asleep?”
Dad grumbled as he clicked through the channels. “These damn stations… they’re hiding everything.”
Suddenly, Mom’s face changed, as if she’d realized something terrible. She whispered “Soheil,” so quietly that I think I was the only one to hear it. She bolted toward his room.
I took a few steps toward the window. I pulled the curtain back and looked outside.
The lights rose into the sky—purple, yellow, and sometimes red. After they rose, they faded, and moments later, a flash would light up the sky, like a star bursting high above. The stars in our skies were exploding one by one. Mr. Nazemi always said that when stars die, they either explode or collapse inward. The image of that sinking building from my dream came back to me.
Mom’s scream echoed through the house.
We all ran to Soheil’s room, where Mom stood frozen in the doorway, staring at his empty bed. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t in his room; he wasn’t anywhere in the house.
Soheil is doing his mandatory military service, and his barracks are outside the city. We’d all forgotten he had to leave early.
Minutes later, Dad sat down heavily on the couch, put on his glasses, and dialed Soheil’s number. Finally, he picked up.
“Yes?” Soheil’s voice sounded steady, almost calm.
“Where are you?” Dad’s voice was tight, straining to keep control. “On the road to the barracks.”
Mom’s face turned pale, and my sister cried out, “Turn back!”
Dad tried to convince Soheil to come home. Soheil wasn’t a particularly religious or patriotic person, yet he wouldn’t turn back. He kept saying that it was war, that the enemy had attacked. No matter how much Mom begged him, he wouldn’t budge.
Dad finally lost his temper, roaring, “Didn’t I tell you to come back? Do you want to die?” Soheil’s voice held steady. “I’m a soldier. I’m supposed to be there.”
Dad’s face flushed with anger. “A soldier? For whom? Do you really think they care about you?”
Soheil raised his voice, insisting, “The enemy attacked, it’s war. As a soldier, I’m supposed to be at the barracks.”
Dad fell silent, gripping the phone tightly, his knuckles white. Then he shouted, “The enemy? War? You’re just parroting their words! This isn’t our war… don’t get yourself caught up in their fight.”
He hung up.
An hour later, Soheil returned. He claimed he’d been in an accident that had kept him from reaching the barracks.
The explosions continued until dawn. Mom put my sister back to bed, while Dad and I stayed up, watching the flashes outside. Dad kept muttering that it wouldn’t escalate into a full- blown war, that it would stay just as clashes. Mom said, “They’ll keep hitting each other until they’re worn out.”
This year has been so complicated, each day more confusing than the last. It’s impossible to tell who’s telling the truth or who’s in the right. I hope it all ends soon. I feel so lost and confused, and I don’t want to stay this way as I grow up. Mom says that feeling lost and confused is just part of being Iranian and Middle Eastern, but I’m not sure. How could being born in just one piece of land make everything more complicated?
