Today I was walking outside the mall and suddenly felt like I was hit with a brick of memories.

It was a mixture of the cold air and the smell of exhaust pipes and the combination of the smells of the food court wafting into the sidewalk and the slushing of my boots along the melting, snow-covered sidewalks.  I stopped walking for a minute and closed my eyes.  I was transported back to the streets of Samarqand.  As long as I kept my eyes closed, I was there.  I was in the bazaar.  I was walking to the choy xona.  I was in Fatima Opa’s kitchen watching my sisters doing homework and my Uzbek mother making osh.

I wanted to keep my eyes closed forever, but knew I couldn’t.

As always, I treasure this city in the deepest part of my soul.  Nothing will ever change that.  Merry Christmas, Uzbekistan.  May you find true hope and joy…