After months of waiting, I finally got the chance to spend Yalda Night and my birthday (both delayed) with my family. I’m extremely happy, but at the same time, I’m stressed about the Iranian flight that’s supposed to take me to my beloved city.

The past few weeks haven’t exactly been stress-free either. Work pressures doubled, and the staff’s psychological stress skyrocketed. Naturally, the main reason is my intensified insistence on obtaining a work visa.

The check-in line is terrifyingly crowded, and I, exhausted from nine hours of intensive handover work, sit on the floor in a corner, trying not to notice the surprised, and often knowingly foolish, looks around me (apparently stemming from their classiness and my lack thereof).

I checked Tabriz’s weather, and it’s going to be rainy in the coming days, but I don’t mind. As long as my body and soul are with my parents, even an apocalypse outside the house wouldn’t bother me.

The plane took off at 12:30 a.m. Istanbul time and landed around 3 a.m. Tabriz time. During the flight, I kept myself occupied with a movie I had downloaded on my phone the night before, and the flight attendant’s announcement that we’d soon arrive in Tabriz reminded me of the passing time. About half an hour was spent collecting my luggage and getting my passport stamped, and then I returned home without anyone waiting for me at the airport.