The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

by Nadia Hashimi

It was as people said. Once married, girls no longer belonged to the families that raised them.

“Rahima-jan, remember that life has typhoons. They come and turn everything upside down. But you still have to stand up because the next storm may be around the corner.”

Forty days. What was so magical about forty? I wondered. Was I to feel differently today than I did yesterday? Was I to forget what happened just six weeks ago? We Afghans marked both life and death with a forty-day period, as if we needed that much time to confirm either had truly happened. We had celebrated Jahangir’s birth forty days after he’d left my womb, unsure if this child was here with us to stay. And now his death. Forty days of praying, alone, with others and everything in between.

But sometimes you have to act out of line, I suppose. Sometimes you have to take a chance if you want something badly enough.