Mundane and Sweet — A Reflection of my 27th year.
Preample:
This is not what I envisioned of my life to be but I am not angry. I’m excited and full of life. I ask myself if I should be sharing all of this because chesm zadan — the evil eye — is always in plain sight. A lover once told me to cool it on the evil eye so... here I am writing. On my birthday. Chesm zadan? Indeed.
The Last day of 27:
I decided to check out this local shop that sells saffron-vanilla ice cream sandwiches. Just like the ones my family makes. I’m critical of how gentrified ice cream shops can replicate cultural staples but… this shop is owned by a Persian sister so I won’t try to hate. I like having a ounce of hater energy — it balances the people pleaser in me. Anyway, back to the shop.
I reach the register and proudly ask, “Yek (one) Saffron-vanilla sandwich, luftan (please)”.
The cashier — definitely, now that I’m looking, a white girl — looks at me in confusion but doesn’t ask any questions.
She hands me the sandwich with a smile on her face and I go “Mersi (thanks)” as I cringely walk away.
My lips move softly to reach the coolness of the saffron-vanilla sandwich as its flavour sends sweetness through me. I let the sun hit my chest as my body soaks the contrast of the sandwich’s coolness and the summer heat. Moments like these remind me how opposites only attract in environments that cater to both their needs. I shake these thoughts as I ask myself, “When did I become so aware of the moments around me?” but I guess that’s what 27 has done to me.
I set aside my thoughts as I reach to text a lover. Let me rephrase that — I only have one. My favourite one. All the others that are trying to grab my attention are basically talking to themselves in my DMS — it kind of feels like its one big groupchat. Anyway, back to the only man that matters.
I open my phone and smile at his contact photo. See, after so many failed relationships and post-anxiety induced dating, I found someone who makes me feel safe. I just hope that this one will stay. He’s the best man I’ve ever gotten to know.
After being temporarily smitten by a phone screen (it’s the milennial-Gen Z cusp in me), I text him, “Thank you so much for reminding me that I needed a day off and that I need to take it easy”.
I flip to Instagram and watch stories of friends and acquaintances as I think, “Life has become so mundane” and “when did we become so vain?”. I know reading that thought from me is a little contradictory. I’m not exempt from feeding into the machine of the constant post, validation, emptiness and repeat. I think I look good and sometimes, I crave for other people to see. I’ve just become more aware that people on Instagram do not have to see all of me.
I close my phone when I realize that this coveted culturally gentrified (hater energy) ice cream sandwich has seeped from the napkin to my hand — turning my hand sticky and sweet. I make a face of disapproval that signals to strangers that I fucked up and I just wasted a good $10 on something I barely ate. I ponder that my misfortune can be chalked up to the economy as I walk hurriedly to throw it out.
As the saffron-vanilla sandwich travels to the trash can from my hand, I think,
“Life is so mundane yet sweet”.
I pop my purse open and reach for a scented sanitizer. This week’s scent is “White Tea and Sage”. The sanitizer feels worse against my palm’s stickiness but at least I smell sweet.
I decide its time to go to the book store and then maybe grab something to eat. I look at my watch and realize it’s 1:54pm. The exact time of my birthday.
Happy birthday to me.
