I’m 25 now. The same age, I believe, as when you first met mom. Two years prior, when you were 23, you would have still been in Iran managing the construction site. I’ve never seen a photo of you when you were 23, but I can picture your body; strong, solid and made taut from a life of trying your hardest to become the person you wanted to be. To escape from the poverty of your childhood and never have to depend on anyone, other than yourself, for anything.