My sister Maryam and I arrived home from school one afternoon, and Baba announced that we were going to the neighborhood park. We squealed with excitement and followed him outside, where he was jogging in place, a goofy smile plastered on his face, his tan tracksuit baggy on his slender frame. We trailed behind him on the mile or so run to the park: a small bespectacled brown man, his lean, bearded cheeks filling up with air that he forced out in a rapid whoosh, whoosh.