I look back over the last 30 years and I wonder how different my life might have been had it not been for those few fateful months in 1978 in Iran. Those months changed the course of our histories. They changed the lives of our children and our children's children forever.
Many of us either forced to leave, Iran's Diaspora, or those in a position to make a choice to leave left behind a life time that can never be owned again. Our lives took on a new destiny, never quite relinquishing the lives we lost. Those that remained, become prisoners of their own unwitting creation.
For 30 years oppression, suppression and dominance of the Islamic regime has tortured it's people and we all but gave up hope of ever being able to return to the lives we lost. Now hope has been reignited: those diaspora and those who remained fight once more for a free Iran. A new generation of warriors has emerged.
We the diaspora, cling to the TV or the Internet watching closely as the people rise up together as one, at last. We are helpless. In our hearts and minds we are there crying out from our roof tops at night with our brothers and sisters 'Allah Akbar', we are there hand in hand marching through the streets, we are there braving the batons and bullets of the fading resistance of the deadly regime.
Our hope, the world hopes, that the day will soon arrive when democracy, freedom and justice finds a place in Iran. Some of us will return once more to pick up the pieces of the life we left.... only it wont be that life we should have had. Our families and friends are dead and dispersed, our properties and possessions confiscated. Our children and their children living their lives here and there all over the globe.
That wasn't how it was supposed to have been.
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