Shiva Salehkia-Hissong was born in a middle-class family in Tehran, the capital of Iran. She moved to Rome to study “Scienze Della moda e del costume,” the science of fashion and costume at the La Sapienza university of Rome. In a course with her only English-speaking professor on research about gender and identity and studying masters of the psychology world, she realized how and why nothing else had ever worked for her. She spent her days in Italy meeting people from all over the world, living paycheck to paycheck, leading a normal, happy life. On a cold evening at the store where she worked, she met her husband who was on holiday. They spoke day and night and he visited every month. They travelled to the most beautiful places in Europe, making wonderful memories that made them impatient to have a life together. After so many tears, so much love and laughter and so many difficulties she moved to Spokane in March. As she was processing the big culture shock and they were getting used to the idea of living together, she discovered they were expecting a baby. Scared and excited, she will be sharing her adventures—her new view, from Spokane—with us.

Sitting on the couch downstairs in our condo in downtown Spokane, with my big mug of instant crummy coffee, I look out the window, wondering how the change of view had changed everything and anything I knew about my existence.

From where I’m sitting I can see the Paulsen Center, which seems to be a big deal here. I’ve heard about the family and the history of the building. It is definitely an upgrade from postwar and incredibly unharmonious brick buildings in the “Colli Albani” neighborhood in Rome where I used to live. Not to forget the Chinese convenience store, a small tattoo shop, an old bar (a place to grab coffee in the morning and maybe a beer at night) and people trying to squeeze their cars in any little space they could find on the crowded street. You could see all this from our dingy balcony that was lit with a single lamp. The lamp switch was not on the balcony, but in a room that originally was a living room, but that our landlord had rented to us as a double room . . . which meant we sometimes had to sit in the dark because the girl living in the switch controlling area was not home.

There were a couple of old wooden chairs; one had a broken leg but we couldn’t throw it away. No matter how and with what supplement we cleaned the house, the dirt was somehow a constant part of the old tiles; and two balcony plants—that were once green—were just another degraded part of the house. One of them would grow a few branches with every rain, and would sting you like an annoyed bee if you came within reach.

I traded all that dust and memory, female roommates from all over the planet, and the bar I went to every morning, Brillo, to grab Cappuccino and a cream filled cornetto, to be here. In Spokane. How did it all happen? Married, expecting a baby and oh, the owner of a dog . . . and a kitten.

Months of struggle, mostly with myself and worrying about whether I could get a visa or not, Josh’s back and forth traveling that in the end was just to keep us together and I could see how tired he was in his sky-blue eyes. I dreamt about being in Spokane to be able to take care of him, to be able to sleep and wake up next to him without having to go to Fiumicino, the International Airport in Rome, to say goodbye without knowing when I would see him again. I expected my flight to crash. That’s how unbelievable it was. And you would think you’d never forget those days and that you would never forget to cherish every moment you have with your loved ones, but crossing an ocean will do that to you.

You open your eyes and you’re arguing about not having cleaned the dog’s feeces on the patio . . .

to be continued . . .