Sobhaneh* by Mahnaz Badihian

Listening to father’s rhythmic movement around the house
I could hear the softness of his black leather shoes
As he put them on, and holding
A white china bowl painted with red roses
…

Sobhaneh*

While mother was in bed
And the morning dew still fresh
I lay in the quiet 
Curled under a wool comforter
Listening to father’s rhythmic movement around the house
I could hear the softness of his black leather shoes
As he put them on, and holding
A white china bowl painted with red roses
Headed towards the big wooden door.
It opened with the familiar creak
And minutes later I hear the same noise again
As Father returned the bowl 
Filled with honey and butter

And stacks of fresh bread called Sangak 
Just came out of the oven
Father pours water in the samovar to boil 
Lays cloth, a Sofreh
Over the red Persian rug and sets out
The bowl and the bread with 
A basket of mixed fresh herbs,
He then calls my mother’s name
His voice is loud.
A few minutes later he is sitting while 8 hungry hands
Dip sangak in the bowl one by one

And now many years after he has gone
Everyday before the sun rises I see him
Putting on his black leather shoes on, or coming back
With the white bowl in his hand,
A faint smile on his face

*breakfast in Persian
…..
In memory of my father 10 years ago this month