On Friday night, Sara and I huddled around the old TV set, waiting to be transported from our dingy basement apartment in Tehran to the sun-dappled fields of Prince Edward Island. The aroma of chicken and steamed rice wafted out from our cramped kitchen as Mom...
In a rectangular birch box, buried amidst formal government papers, vaccination records and first birthday cards, lies a certain paper which catches my eye. Holding my past in my hands like this reminds me of my origins with a sudden clarity. The document is labelled...
