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In the morning； Hassan told me he and Farzana had decided to move to Kabul with me。
I should not have e here； I said。 You were right； Hassan jan。 You have a zendagi； a life here。 It was presumptuous of me to just show up and ask you to drop everything。 It is me who needs to be forgiven。
We don t have that much to drop； Rahim Khan； Hassan said。 His eyes were still red and puffy。 We ll go with you。 We ll help you take care of the house。
Are you absolutely sure？
He nodded and dropped his head。 Agha sahib was like my second father。。。 God give him peace。
They piled their things in the center of a few worn rags and tied the corners together。 We loaded the bundle into the Buick。 Hassan stood in the threshold of the house and held the Koran as we all kissed it and passed under it。 Then we left for Kabul。 I remember as I was pulling away； Hassan turned to take a last look at their home。
When we got to Kabul； I discovered that Hassan had no intention of moving into the house。 But all these rooms are empty； Hassan jan。 No one is going to live in them； I said。
But he would not。 He said it was a matter of ihtiram； a matter of respect。 He and Farzana moved their things into the hut in the backyard； where he was born。 I pleaded for them to move into one of the guest bedrooms upstairs； but Hassan would hear nothing of it。 What will Amir agha think？ he said to me。 What will he think when he es back to Kabul after the war and finds that I have assumed his place in the house？ Then； in mourning for your father； Hassan wore black for the next forty days。
I did not want them to； but the two of them did all the cooking； all the cleaning。 Hassan tended to the flowers in the garden； soaked the roots； picked off yellowing leaves； and planted rosebushes。 He painted the walls。 In the house； he swept rooms no one had slept in for years； and cleaned bathrooms no one had bathed in。 Like he was preparing the house for someone s return。 Do you remember the wall behind the row of corn your father had planted； Amir jan？ What did you and Hassan call it； the Wall of Ailing Corn ？ A rocket destroyed a whole section of that wall in the middle of the night early that fall。 Hassan rebuilt the wall with his own hands； brick by brick； until it stood whole again。 I do not know what I would have done if he had not been there。 Then late that fall； Farzana gave birth to a stillborn baby girl。 Hassan kissed the baby s lifeless face； and we buried her in the backyard； near the sweetbrier bushes。 We covered the little mound with leaves from the poplar trees。 I said a prayer for her。 Farzana stayed in the hut all day and wailed……it is a heartbreaking sound； Amir jan； the wailing of a mother。 I pray to Allah you never hear it。
Outside the walls of that house； there was a war raging。 But the three of us； in your father s house； we made our own little haven from it。 My vision started going by the late 1980s； so I had Hassan read me your mother s books。 We would sit in the foyer； by the stove； and Hassan would read me from _Masnawi_ or _Khayy醡_； as Farzana cooked in the kitchen。 And every m