They say time heals all wounds. Although I was severely wounded from my fight with Assef, I felt healed on the inside. The doctors at the hospital in Pakistan are what aided my healing on the outside, and of course, time. But Sohrab wasn’t wounded. Both of his parents were killed in cold blood by the ruthless Taliban. He had to live in a poorly run orphanage with no one but himself to love. And yet, it couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse. But it did. He was abused day to day ever since he was taken by the sociopathic Taliban, Assef, and likely traumatized for the rest of his life. That is no wound. However, since accepting Soraya and I as his family, I believe we have helped Sohrab recover from his dreadful past.
I remember the very first time I took Sohrab kite running. There was a gathering of Afghans at Lake Elizabeth Park in Fremont in celebration of Sawl-e-Nau, the Afghan New Year. It was a rainy morning, but by the afternoon kites were out and about. At the time, Sohrab was still silent. But I could tell that he was interested in the kites. I had bought a kite for us, and we used it to cut down a green kite using the old lift-and-dive manoeuvre Hassan and I used. I looked down at Sohrab, and at that moment, I saw him smile. It wasn’t a complete smile, but it meant something. That was his first spark of recovery. Looking back now, I realize I haven’t let go of my past of unatoned sins. I’ve been holding them in ever since I received that phone call in December 2001. It’s been 10 years since that conversation, and I finally realize how kind he was to me, how well he knew who I really was. Talking with Rahim Khan on the phone, he did tell me, “There is a way to be good again”. Good. Again. I never felt that there was ever a time in my entire life where I was considered “good”. I killed my mother as she gave birth to me. My childhood was…at the very least, abhorrent. Becoming an adult and living in America didn’t help me let go of my...
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