So it is me here, standing, yet again in the midst of indecision.
I guess it is fitting considering that is how I started out my life, indecisive, rootless, in a place I never returned to again. So it is not befitting that I stand here on the brink looking out ? When Robert Frost described two roads opening before you, how was I supposed to know it was my theme song? The road less travelled.
I have really begun to hate that road. It is way too unpredictable, too many twists and turns. But I guess I should start from the beginning.

My name is Maryam DiMauro. I am twenty something years old. I was born in a hippie commune in New Mexico. I dont remember any of it. All I know is that it was beautiful, and in the middle of the desert, a lone serpent caught in traffic. My mother swears she met native americans who saw fabled monsters ( strangely similar to the Loch Ness I am afraid). I was born in a home made trailer , miles away from any family but my parents. I was born in the middle of the fast. I can only discertain what it was like from something my mother wrote to me a couple years back for my birthday :

You were born on a fasting day .
We wanted you to be a Nawruz baby but you insisted on being born. All day long the pains came and I was walking and pacing up and down the trailer where we lived in Taos, New Mexico, a land of mountains and moon landscapes, full of dreamers and vision seekers. Everyone around me was happy when six o clock came and they could eat. Carol who was studying to be a midwife and wanted to observe the birth , her husband Andy who came along for the ride, your father and the doctor who was delivering you. They all sat down enthusiastically to a bowl of Chicken Posole while I was confined to ice cubes. The smell of New Mexican chili invaded the house as I sucked on my piece of ice .
“Women in labour should not eat” said the doctor.
When the pains got strong your father would sit by the bed and hold my hand and recite very long prayers from Bahullah´s book of prayers and meditations. Meanwhile I was regretting ny idealistic concept of a natural birth. Suddenly those drugs the doctor had in his bag looked pretty good.
You were born around 11.20 if I remember correctly.You came out wide awake crying and furiously sucking the back of your hand. ( this is probably indicative of who i would be later in life, drama queen from the beggining)
I thought you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen
One eye did not want to open and your neck was floppy. It took a few months before we did not have to hold up your head with a supportive adult hand.
You were named Maryam in honour of the female relative of Bahaullah ( even although later in a few years tie you told everyone your name was Heidi ) Of course all Bahai children at that time were given Persian names regardless of their own background. It was as if we wanted our children to be the true spiritual descendants of the Dawnbreakers who had inspired us so much as young Bahais entering the Faith
Your first Nawruz was spent at a picnic in a field near Taos. It was a glorious sunny spring day and it was youryour first chance to smell the air and breathe in the rays of the sun. I remember feeling complete that this was what I was here for. To raise another one of God´s children into the world.


Ah the idealism of youth.She was 22 years old, fresh eyed and full of new promises. My father was too. I have trouble remembering him like this, a man instead of a stunted child, caught in a world of drugs and narcissism.
In fact, I cant really remember anything about him except for him letting me watch really scary movies in the middle of the night.
However, be it as it may, my early memories consisted of new mexico, and then Peru and Bolivia. I don't remember much of that period other than the fact that I was given a stuffed llama.