________

Once on a patrol I came across a weeping woman. She was crying and crying and crying. I looked over to a friend and asked, "Why is she crying?"

He assured me he would find out. We walked over to her and he asked for me. Turning to me he replied sadly, "Her son is dead. He died yesterday."

This woman, this heartbroken mother...I felt such compassion for her. Here you see my dearest was someone who loved her son. Here was a woman who could not read or write. Here was a woman whose world was so small and knew nothing of the marvels of the world. And yet her tiny world was shattered.

She didn't know about trees that grew bigger than sky scrapers, desserts that melted in your mouth, exotic animals you and I would only ever witness in a zoo, oceans that went deeper than we could comprehend... Do you see what I'm trying to tell you my dearest? I am fascinated by how beautiful it is, and I could never describe a silly flamingo to her. I couldn't share literature that moved me, music that soothes.

An Afghan once wrote: One should love only one and not thousands. The brightness should only come from the moon and not the stars.

He wrote it in his diary before he killed himself. I think it's about the most romantic thing I've ever read in my whole life.

He was also that woman's son. You don't have to go very far or know very much at all my dearest. Love takes you places, don't you think?