The Memory of My First Day at School

I don't remember exactly; I think it was a Saturday. It was my first day of fifth grade. Like every little girl, I was excited as I got ready to go to school. My heart was filled with joy and anticipation.

After the long, cold winter, when everything had been covered in a blanket of white, the beautiful spring arrived with its colorful flowers. Everything looked alive and beautiful. The songs of birds and sparrows echoed through the air, while butterflies danced gracefully around the blossoms. I was happy because I was about to begin a new school year and hoped to achieve new successes.

I was also very nervous. It is strange how two opposite feelings happiness and anxiety can exist together at the same time.

I put on my school uniform, a black dress and trousers with a white headscarf. Then I picked up my school bag, filled with textbooks, beautiful notebooks, and colorful pens. I slung it over my shoulder and started walking toward school.

On the way, I saw many girls, young and old, all dressed alike and heading to school just like me. The streets had taken on a special kind of beauty a beauty that today we can no longer see in real life, only in our dreams.

When I arrived at school, I entered my classroom. It was already full of girls. You could see a love for knowledge and progress shining on every face. If you looked into their eyes, you could tell they had come to learn and were eager for every new lesson.

Since it was my first year at that school, I didn't know anyone. I greeted my classmates and looked for an empty seat. The classroom was crowded, so it wasn't easy to find one. Finally, in the third row, I noticed an empty chair. I walked over and asked the girl sitting beside it, "Is anyone sitting here?"

She smiled and replied, "No, you can sit here."

I thanked her and sat down.

She was a girl of average height with round eyes and a warm, gentle face. She was polite and modestly dressed. From the very first moment I saw her, I liked her. As it turned out, she felt exactly the same way.

After that unforgettable day, Nasrin the girl I had met walked home with me. By coincidence, she lived across the street from our house. From then on, we would call each other every morning before school and walk there together. We studied together, laughed together, and shared countless happy moments. We promised each other that one day we would both become doctors and continue our education side by side.

How beautiful those days were days that are now gone forever.

I don't know what happened. Maybe we didn't deserve them. Maybe we simply grew up. Maybe we were just unlucky.

Or maybe the world changed.

I am still searching for the answers to these questions. Yet I continue walking this path alone, without my friend the friend with whom I had promised to become doctors, to graduate together, and to build our future side by side. She is now confined to her home, and all those promises remain unfinished. I am left alone, forced to keep moving forward. The promises we made have become impossible to keep.

It is painful beyond words to become a prisoner in your own country, in your own home. A place where dreams should be born and nurtured has instead become the place where dreams are destroyed. A place where every hope, every ambition, and every opportunity is taken away from you.