Spring feels like a comforting embrace that arrives after a cold and gloomy winter. Each season might have its own beauty and stories, but none can light the lamp of joy in a cold and dark heart like Spring can. Spring gives a sense of youthfulness; it makes you talk to the blossoms, just like “The Little Prince” befriended his flower. You walk with the rain, harmonize with the thunder, gaze at the greenery, and smile.
You’re with the stars in the sky, build a house on the moonlight, play with the clouds, get hopeful with the sunrise, and experience a strange yet pleasant feeling of longing with the sunset. For me, Spring is like that; each moment is memorable and requires a notebook and a pen to write it down.
Last winter, I was worried that Spring might come with sick blossoms, wilted flowers, and a dry harsh earth. One early morning, I was calmly and slowly walking through the streets and alleys of Kabul. But unlike the season, Kabul’s atmosphere didn’t signify morning. School children, filled with indescribable excitement, eagerly walked through the streets to get to their classrooms and enjoy it.
I carefully watched their faces; some were holding their mother’s hands, some their father’s, and others with their family members. Their faces were beaming with joy. These scenes reminded me of my early school days when my mother used to take me to school.
One hand of my mother was holding mine and the other held my school bag. Sometimes I was so excited that I wanted to run and reach the school faster, but my mother was careful and wouldn’t let me. On the way, she always told me, “My daughter, study with all your heart so you won’t be illiterate like me and won’t need others for reading or writing! Study well to have a bright future and try to make your teachers proud of you.”
My mother would tell me many things along the way, but I didn’t understand their deep meaning at that time. Now that I remember and understand well the wisdom in her words.
Today, when I saw the happy children going to school for a moment, it crossed my mind that I should go back home, put on my school uniform, pack my twelfth-grade books in my bag, and head to school. But my eyes saw something else; in the streets, only younger girls, from fifth and sixth grades and below, were going to school, and they went happily.
I said in my head, “God, if I could enter school with my twelfth-grade books this year? if I had the excitement to go to school too? if I could see my friends at school?” Thousands of questions ran through my mind but none had an answer.
Since the fall of the Republic, each year I tell myself, “Today you will go to school. If not today, then tomorrow!” But I don’t know when this “tomorrow” will come for me to go to school and study. This year I was supposed to celebrate my graduation; I was supposed to take the university entrance exam, and head to university. But I don’t know why none of these plans and dreams I had since childhood for this year came true.
However, I know that our situation is like the saying, “No matter how dark and long is the night, a bright and beautiful morning will follow.” This night will also pass; morning will come whether sooner or later. I am sure one day I will celebrate my graduation from school and achieve my childhood dreams. They always say that God is kind and supports those who are patient. I will also be patient until this darkness leaves our lives and all of us achieve our dreams and we surely will.
-Mariam A.
Guest Author
Girl Museum Inc