من و مامان قم بودیم و ماشینو گم کرده بودیم و سرگردون تو خیابونا. کلا هرچی می تونست غلط پیش بره غلط رفته بود. از جمله اینکه من نابغه موبایلو تو ماشین جا گذاشته بودم. دیگه چیزی نبود باهاش نقشه چک کنم. مامان ولی اون موبایل گوشکوب قدیمی شو داشت. هیچی ش کار نمی کرد ولی. گوگل مپ و که روش باز کرده بودم فریز شده بود بس که سی پی یوی این بیلبیلک قدیمی و کند بود. خسته شدم. شاکی قاب شیشه یی موبایل و کندم و نقشه گوگل مپ و از زیرش کشیدم بیرون. یه تیکه کاغذ تا کرده بود. تای نقشه رو باز کردم. یه نقشه ی بزرگتر شد. تازه بعضی جاهاشم می شد رو هاپیرلینکها کلیک کرد رو همون کاغذ (هرچند هیچ اتفاقی نمیافتاد). یه لحظه بارقه امید توم حلول کرد. که لااقل نقشه یی هست و یه جوری راهو پیدا می کنیم. طبق رصد من، ما یه جا نزدیک نوک دست راست بالای کاغذه بودیم. حدس می زدم ماشین یکی دو کیلومتر شرق تره. کافی بود یه تای دیگه از نقشه رو باز کنم تا راهو ببینم. ولی تایی در کار نبود. تصور اینکه این نقشه کاغذی مث دیجیتالیش جادویی ه و تا ابد میشه ازش تا باز کرد احمقانه بود. اینم به هیچ دردی نخورد.
نشستیم لب جوب تا شاید ماشین خودش بیاد مارو پیدا کنه. ماشین ما اهلی و بامرام بود. مث ژیان چاق و لاغر.
اما... نیومد.
من و مامان هنوز لب جوبیم تو قم. اگه کسی اینو می خونه بیاد مارو ورداره.
سالها پیش و کمی بعد از مهاجرت این شعرو رفیق شفیقی به اسم بهرام (عباس) گفت و فرستاد واسم. یادم رفته بود تا اینکه بی هوا دیروز واسم فرستاد باز. چه خوشبختم من که جایی تو ذهن یه آدم نازنین به حیات نباتی ام ادامه دادم این همه سال.
The toddler boy falls, legs broken, chasing his big brother onto the roof. Nobody saw him fall, not even his brother. Now he’s crying in the backyard. He wanted to touch the stars. He thought climbing the stairs to the roof would do it. It didn’t. There’s a plane up there, swimming among the stars. He thinks the plane’s blinking lights are the stars. He stops crying. He thinks the stars are coming down to hug him. They don’t. He learns how to keep stopping crying.
It’s getting too late to be a little toddler. So he grows up to a big toddler. The broken legs become crooked roots. He’s stuck in the little backyard garden, where he fell. He knows the only way to the stars is to grow wings. He thinks —one day I’ll be a huge tree with the biggest wings ever. I’ll flap them so hard I’ll carry the whole planet closer to the sky, and then I can touch the stars. The real ones, not those dumb airplane lights.
The twenty-three-year-old toddler falls and breaks his wings. He was chasing the stars in the sea’s sparkles. When the sun breaks into a million pieces and shines over the waves on a long afternoon. Nobody saw him fall. Now he’s on the sand, not crying. Because he knows how to keep stopping crying. Instead, he swallows all the sea sparkles, pushes them down into a little reservoir in his belly.
The thirty-one-year-old toddler built a dam in his closet. His belly was too small for all the tears. Every night, when everyone’s asleep, he goes to his secret dam and empties all the sparkling tears he collected that day. He’s seen other people with lots of tears. But nobody else has a secret dam. Everyone else sits in a little boat floating in a narrow stream of tears, they call it a river. They cry into their little river to keep the boat moving. They call it a river, but he thinks it’s not even a tiny stream. What a joke. He wants more than that. He wants a great flood. Wild, too powerful to control. Too destructive to be liked. Too messy to be respected. He wants it wild.
The forty-two-year-old toddler has a plan. His legs are still crooked, he’s still stuck in the backyard, his wings are still broken. There’s only one way left to the stars: break the dam and flood his world with sea sparkles. Those magical sparkles he’s been saving in his secret closet dam aren’t exactly stars, but they’re close.
There’s a problem. The dam is too big and too strong to break. He doesn’t have anything that can break a dam that big… except sin tears. Sin tears come when he doesn’t let himself cry the sparkling tears. But they’re still tears. They can fill up the dam even faster. Then there’s hope… when he’s worthy of a flood, the dam will break.
But the more he sins, the less worthy he is of a flood, and the stronger the dam gets. He thinks those millions of gallons of tears will wash away his sins, by drowning him in sweet dreams.
