As I mentioned previously, I called my friends in Boston to let them know I was heading to Armenia after a wonderful year in America. They told me that if I had not already booked the tickets, I should fly through Boston and spend a couple days before going back. It sounded like a good idea since I did not know if I would ever see them again. During this detour, I met their daughter (I had no idea they even had kids)…

Spring of 1994 was as full of hope as the spring of 1993. I had applied to a few colleges in the US but the question of financial support still remained unresolved.

At school I had a friend whose parents had emigrated from Poland. He used to be in my physics class. During one of the labs he offered to drive if I’d be interested to go check out the international fair in St. Petersburg. A few days later…

Spring in Armenia is beautiful because it brings with it hope and the mild fragrance of the fruit trees in blossom everywhere. The spring of 1993 was more special as it brought a new type of hope. Now that I had made the first step, I had to do everything possible to be accepted into the program. I was given the impossible task of completing the application…

It was the winter of 1993. Yerevan was covered with a white freezing blanket of snow. It was serene and peaceful outside, no cars, no people, nothing. Just the snow… and the occasional smoke emanating from a makeshift tin exhaust vent built into the kitchen or living room window, a pipe on a wall made black by whatever people had been burning to stay warm…

I wrote this in response to a poem with the same title by my friend. After receiving permission to use the title, I wanted to share it here. It is dedicated to my best friend to whom I am honored to be married for over ten years now. This will also have to speak for itself…