A Thousand Splendid Suns

May 13, 1987

My dear Mariam

And, if it did, Laila’s dreams were suffused with fire and detached limbs and the moaning of the wounded.

Then the blast, blissfully elsewhere, followed by an expulsion of breath and the knowledge that they had been spared for now while somewhere else, amid cries and choking clouds of smoke, there was a scrambling, a bare-handed frenzy of digging, of pulling from the debris, what remained of a sister, a brother, a grandchild.

One last time, Mariam did as she was told.

But the game involves only male names. Because, if it's a girl, Laila has already named her.

That night, it was blessing enough to be beside him. It was blessing enough to know that he was here, to feel the warmth of him next to her, to lie with him, their heads touching, his right hand laced in her left

A dry, barren field, out beyond wish and lament, beyond dream and disillusionment- There, the future did not matter. And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion.

But when it came to fathers, Mariam had no assurances to give.

all the hardships a person had to face none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.

Mammy's hand floated up to her chest, tapped there. "Inhere. What's inhere. " Then it fell flaccid. "You just don't know."