If the Ayatollah got his way, then life for many people in Iran would become unbearable. That’s what my older brothers kept on saying, and it’s what most of my other relatives were saying as well.

My other relatives…

Miriam, my favorite cousin, who was four years older than me.

Just thinking about Miriam would bring a smile to my face. How I enjoyed those hot summer evenings when we’d sleep on the rooftop of Miriam’s house. We’d laugh with animation as we swatted away the mosquitos and fleas, and then dip into our ice cream with glee.

Miriam was the only real constant in my life throughout my family’s many moves from one apartment to the next. I knew that I could count on my older cousin to always be there for me, no matter what.

One afternoon she came over to my house for a visit. A Pepsi truck had just been set on fire by Islamic extremists and it was clear to everyone that when the revolution ended, the Shah would be out of power. The Muslim extremist Ayatollah Khomeini would become the country’s new leader and our lives as free people would be over.

“Ahlan, Farah,” Miriam greeted me, spreading her arms out wide as usual. “You know how much I love you. I love you as wide as this.”

“And I love you this much.” I held my hands out even wider than my cousin. “You’re my favorite cousin.”

Miriam laughed at our familiar exchange, but she quickly sobered. Clearing her throat, she looked at me and I realized that she had something important to tell me.

My heart lurched. That something didn’t look like it would be something good.

“We’re leaving Iran, Farah. My family doesn’t want to be here when the revolution is over and the Ayatollah becomes the new leader. We’re moving to Israel now, while it’s still safe to leave the country.”

“Israel, Mitra? No. Don’t go.” I shouted so loudly I hardly recognized my own voice. “Don’t go, Mitra. Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Farah. I really am. I know how much we’ll miss each other. But I’ll make sure to stay in touch with you forever.” Miriam wrapped her arms around me, but even her shoulders weren’t wide enough to contain all my tears. “Forever and ever.”

Forever and ever.

I cried and cried all afternoon, and when dusk came and the sky turned to night I continued to wail and sob. By the time morning came along I barely had any voice left and I had used up all of my tears.

Miriam’s family was leaving. I would remain all alone in Tehran, moving from one home to the next, forever, living in an environment rife with gunshots and terror.

If only Miriam didn’t have to leave.

If only there were some way that my own life would become better.

If only…

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 904)