My Friday through Monday in a beach town on Long Island.

Or: what it felt like to be an Iranian-American when the US bombed Iran.

This started out as a classic “day in the life” letter— surprisingly, folks seem to really like them! I thought I’d have a great, very active, very jam packed first nice weekend here at the beach and that it’d be perfect to bring you along for the ride.

I did not foresee the US bombing Iran.

I cannot say I was handling Israel bombing Iran very well— this took it to the next level. I debated holding this post and not sharing it at all. I debated writing something just about how it feels to be Iranian-American right now.

Ultimately, I’ll do neither. This letter contains some of my highest highs and lowest lows in one package, and that’s kind of how life goes, huh?

So I am leaving it as honest as I can. I’ve edited out a lot of anxious internal monologue, but left in some— that’s the truth. I’ve also left in some of the most fun, lucky, privileged bits— lobster rolls, volleyball with friends… because that’s the truth too.

I have no neat bow to tie on things. I am frustrated by reductionist…