Fall of a DreamIt was four in the afternoon. I was sitting in the hallway facing the window, preparing for an assignment I had just registered for. My mother was making ablution beside the water tap. My sister had placed a table and chair next to the Queen of the Night flower and was practicing math. She had been preparing for the university entrance exam for a year and four months. She wanted to become a doctor.My mother poured the remaining ablution water from the pitcher onto the Queen of the Night plant. She touched its leaves and said, “Grow well, my child…”I remembered three years ago when my brother planted the sapling. I had asked him, “How much did you pay?” He said, “Five hundred.” I said, “Five hundred for one flower plant?” He smiled and said, “It lasts a lifetime.”“Oh my dear… now only one of your plants is left. I wish you had never bought that motorcycle…”It was my mother speaking.This was her daily conversation with the plant and with herself: “A tree is better than a human; at least it stays.”Suddenly the door of the house shook so hard that dust scattered into the air. After hearing the news of provinces falling to the Taliban, we would jump at every sound.As soon as my mother opened the door, my uncle rushed into the yard. His face was pale like chalk.My mother said, “Is everything alright?”“The Taliban have reached near the city. There’s a chance Takhar will fall. Quickly take the essential things — we must go.”My mother looked toward the window. “What are you saying? Where can I go with two daughters?”“God is merciful. We’ll find a way.”My body went weak. My hands were trembling.My mother shouted at me and my sister in panic: “Hurry! Don’t just stand there!”I said louder, my voice shaking, “I’m not going anywhere.”My uncle said, “I won’t take you far. Just to my house. You’ll stay there until things calm down, then you can return home.”My mother stared at the Queen of the Night plant.I picked up my brother’s black backpack and put my laptop and a few books inside.I looked at my sister; she was stuffing all her exam-prep books into her backpack. Tears were knotted in her eyes. Her shoulders had dropped, her hands were limp, and she kept staring at her books. Then she looked at me. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes onto the books — like rain, drop by drop.She whispered to my mother, “How long will we stay there? I can’t study in that noisy house full of children.”“We have no choice. If fighting starts and things get worse, then what? No, we’ll manage for a few days, my dear.”I grabbed my phone and went to stand beside the Queen of the Night. I looked at the sky; no birds were flying. The clouds were moving very slowly. I thought of Suraya — my friend in Kabul. I wondered if danger had reached Kabul too. I messaged her; she wasn’t online.I opened Facebook. The news page of Tolo had written that the Taliban had attacked several districts, but the government wasn’t giving accurate information.My mother entered the room.“Your uncle went to bring the car, and you still haven’t packed,” she said to me. “What are you doing on Facebook at a time like this?”“I’m taking my books with me.”“I’m worried sick, and you’re worried about something else.”My mother had told us stories from the earlier Taliban era — how they forced girls into marriage. I stared at the photo of my father and brother on the table. My father had his arm around my brother’s shoulder. Both were laughing. On the table was a basket of artificial red roses; my brother had brought it for Mother’s Day.My mother followed my gaze. She wrapped the photo frame in a cloth and tucked it under her arm.My uncle returned with the car. My sister was clutching her backpack of books.In the yard, my mother stroked the Queen of the Night, leaned forward, kissed a couple of its leaves, and whispered something toward the sky.From somewhere nearby, the chirping of sparrows could be heard. I walked around the yard. Under the big mulberry tree, a baby sparrow had fallen to the ground. Its mother was on a branch above, chirping anxiously. I picked up the chick gently and placed it back in its nest.My mother said to the Queen of the Night, “I’ll come back, my child.