We met on Telegram.
-
Young people from different cultures, different languages, graduates of education systems that taught us to hate one another.
We had time, some English, and an internet connection — and it turned out that was more than enough to make us friends in heart and soul.
-
There I met Ray, a computer science student at the University of Tehran and a martial arts enthusiast; Ali, who worked as a waiter at a restaurant frequented by the upper class; and Abdullah, who served as a crew member on a ship.
They, along with many other young Iranians, were part of the circle of friends that accompanied me during those years, and we knew each other well.
-
We would talk late into the night about the weightiest things in the world.
Should we have children? What career should we choose? Who is right in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?
We laughed together, shared videos and stories from our daily lives, and encouraged one another whenever someone was going through a hard time.
-
Time pulled us apart — as did the fear of the watchful eyes of the Iranian government and our parents.
But in my heart they will always be my childhood friends, and I still love them.
-
I know they are there right now, praying for the safety of our pilots no less than we are, and hoping that every bomb reaches its target and strikes true.
I know how deeply they love Iran, and I am certain they will turn it into a flourishing paradise when they are the ones holding the reins of power.
I have promised again and again to host them when they come to visit Israel, and that it will happen far sooner than they imagine.
-
I am still waiting — but that day is already beginning to glow just around the corner.