Red, Light, and Hafez: The Spirit of Yalda Night
Waiting excitedly behind the door of my grandmother’s house, each family member wears a piece of red clothing. The door opens to the warm, loud gathering. We’re greeted with kisses and hugs, our faces still ice-cold from the winter chill outside. Inside, relatives with red-stained hands peel mountains of pomegranates, snacks are piled high on…