story one -finished

Once upon a time, there was a small family in a big city in Afghanistan. The family had three members. Father, Mother, and a three-year-old kid. The father was working in an air force department in that country, and the mother was working in a small garment manufacturing company. They had a neighbor who was a 70-year-old granny. Sometimes she helped those parents by taking care of their kid. That granny also had a small rice ball shop, which rarely had any customers.

The city was the capital of Afghanistan, called Kabul. 'A city of Pomegranates'. There was so much politeness and kindness in the city. But that city was usually torn by wars. Consequently, people with high ambitions left the country as soon as they graduated. But this small family never thought of leaving their mother country. They lived with a small salary with high ambitions.

One day, they went to a picnic at the park, which was right next to their street. That park had a calm breeze on a beautiful winter evening. The kid was playing with balloons and his toys while his parents were having warm food while watching a beautiful sunset. After an hour, his father got a call from his office, saying that a war might break out within 3 hours, and he should be ready with an air engine to fly high and kill the enemies. Guilt filled his eyes as he turned to look at his wife.

The family left the park quickly. As soon as the father reached home, he packed a bag and left, while his kid and mother said goodbye to him nervously. A day was over for real!

As she went to sleep, she prayed to god to protect her husband and hoped he would return soon. Next morning, she woke up expecting a call or text message from her husband.

Each day felt like a year.

After 5 days, the news came on the radio, saying that 30 people got injured in a recent war and 5 air force officers got injured heavily and there may not be any chance of saving their lives.

Her body shook, tears rolled down her cheeks; her hands were trembling, and fear made a home in her heart. Her legs gave up, she fainted, and her kid was crying, but she didn't respond. Immediately her neighbors came in for help after hearing the news to check on her, and she was hospitalized.

She regained consciousness, she immediately woke up and searched for her kid. She tried enquiring everyone about her husband, who went to war in the northern countryside.

A few officers looked for her husband's information and they couldn't reach him. There was a silence of death in her heart like she fell from 8000 feet to the earth with no hope of living.

She got back home with a kid, with no hope. She sat on the floor and saw her phone hoping that he might call.

She was in a denial stage. She was hoping that it was just her nightmare and she didn't hear the news. She didn't want to accept reality.

She was staring at her phone for hours! Spent many days standing at the door waiting for him!

One day, the doorbell rang. She quickly ran and opened the door with hope and despair. There was a postman with a telegram. She was disappointed. She thanked him and closed the door and threw away the telegram on the floor and went to her room. Her kid took that letter; he was playing joyfully and tore it apart. After an hour, while she was preparing a warm meal to feed the little kid, she observed a telegram which tore in half and was very dirty. She tried joining them carefully and started reading.

There were a few blurry words. Yes! She recognized it. She felt the warmth in that handwriting. She cried with happiness and hugged her baby immediately with great hope for life.

She read it out loud,

"on the way to the capital"

- yours

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