Sylvia's Journal

We followed our usual Friday ritual of walking in Bagh-e-bala, then going for lunch, some shopping and then back home. We did not join the Chicken Street contingent because one visit every few weeks is enough for us.

We had green tea, sitting in the sun and practiced our Dari, while looking out over the white mountains around Kabul and enjoying the mild temperature. On days like this Kabul is very pleasant.

We had lunch at the Flower Street café which isn’t on Flower Street anymore. It is one of those places where foreigners hang out. The place is owned by Afghan Americans and serves American breakfast fare. We sat at a table in the snow covered backyard while the sun was heating up my back. It was lovely.

Everything remained lovely until I checked my email. For once I had not checked my email all day with the intent of not thinking about work at all. Since the head office hasn’t completed its work week, opening emails on Friday is risky. But then I did at the end of the day and found a dark message from my brother – the doctors found something really wrong in the lungs of his wife. That sort of stopped everything. She’s my age. Life’s fragile.