“You should not go to Peru! I am warning you, Hamid!” Mother snarled as she always did when she was upset.
“Mother, I should go to Peru. That is where I should be.”
“If you go, who will come to me when I call? Who will light the coal? Who will shut the door when it’s cold and open it when it’s hot? Who will pray over my coffin when I die?” She sobbed.
Hamid reached out for Mother’s cheek. “I have a life. They don’t, and merely feed on hope. If I split mine, we may both smile.”