"Reading Lolita in Tehran"

My book club recently read the book "Reading Lolita in Tehran." It is a heavier book than we normally read, which also made it one I think about more that usual.

A thought on page 336 resonates enough with me I wanted to share it here so I can find it later.

Later I showed the pictures we'd taken in those last few weeks to my magician. You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, I told him, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and in this place, because you'll never be this way again.

This simple paragraph brought me back to my trip to Belgium this year. For a couple of days I was able to become the person I was in 1987. I felt 18. I felt unconditional love. I felt the joy of having no responsibilities. I felt able to live in the moment.

I thought about other transitions. Going away to college. Living in Paris. Getting married. Moving into this house. Becoming a mother. Leaving my job. Going to graduate school. And countless smaller decisions that make me who I am.

Each change brought a fork -- taking the path I took meant not taking the other path. When I read a book or see a movie that explores both paths, I am fascinated by the story line. There is a book in me where I explore both roads -- the one taken, and the one I could have taken. I suppose this is why Azar Nafisi's quote resonates with me. I miss who I was at different stages in my life because I know I'll never be that person again.