I planted a cherry blossom tree in my Brooklyn garden in honor of my mother, whom I haven’t seen in 15 years.
Each spring, as it burst into bloom, I found comfort in embracing it. However, when an assassin, armed with an AK-47, targeted my Brooklyn home on behalf of the Islamic Republic, the FBI told us that we should sell our house. This forced me to flee my country and live in exile, marking the first painful separation from my mother. Now, leaving behind my cherished cherry blossom mom after the assassination plot is a second heart-wrenching departure. This photo, gifted by a neighbor, serves as a poignant reminder of my mother blossoming anew. Only those who’ve been exiled can understand my pain, while fellow gardeners can sympathize with my loss.