Bebakhshid

You know those dreams you have where you're wandering around somewhere, nowhere in particular, and nothing seems obviously to be amiss, but you just feel it, you know you're off kilter somehow...and it turns out you're only half-dressed...or worse?

Yesterday, as we were leaving a relative's house I decided to carry my shoes (Michael Kors jute ankle wrap wedges - darling but super high maintenance) rather than put them on again for the thousandth time that day after many such visits. It's difficult for us to leave, harder, I think, for them to let us go...and there is lots of hugging and crying.
I turned to wave goodbye to one of Hamid's aunts and saw that her expression had turned from red-eyed desolation to pure laughter, Hamid's mom standing beside her shared the same mirthful expression. I thought they just thought it was funny I was waltzing to the car without anything on my feet, as if I were back in India.
I glanced down the road and saw a pair of older women, dressed in the full-body black garments that are customary for the generation, walking toward me and suddenly became aware that something was definitely off, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was...

I glanced down at my bare feet, and my eyes caught exactly what was wrong on the way down: I was wearing white capris and a pink tee shirt...and nothing else.
Anywhere else, this would be fine - it was hot out, nearly 40 degrees, and my outfit would be perfect summer attire...anywhere but here.

In my relaxed frame of mind, after sitting comfortably with family for the past while, I'd completely forgotten to don my coat and scarf on the way out the door and instead had them slung over one arm, accidentally ignoring their intended purpose, and the legal implications for their having accompanied me in the first place.

I immediately dove into the car in a ridiculous panic, trying frantically to wrap the coat around me and get my scarf over my head at the same time as the women passed by, looking on in amazement and Hamid's family stood giggling in the doorway.

It had been a mistake, of course - I would never consciously choose to disobey the dress code in Iran, but somehow in the laze of the summer day and in the heartbroken company of those who love us and don't want us to go, I simply forgot to follow the rule and had wandered outside in what might have looked like an approximation of blatant disregard. or sheer stupidity.

Fortunately our family is good natured enough to realize there were no intentions behind my major mishap and I didn't offend anyone; instead I succeeded, however accidentally, in turning a very heavy and tearful goodbye into one of laughter.