THE FIRST DAY OF WINTER

Another Bakery Anecdote. I had on my straw hat, my duck-down gloves, a coat over my beaver fur vest, and of course, my Italian hiking boots. I was riding my Chinese bicycle on my way home, and the rain was turning to sleet, and then came snowflakes, and it was getting colder by the minute, but I needed to buy my hot, delicious nan. I got off of my bike, but instead of standing at the bakery window to order, I walked bravely up the wooden steps to the door entrance of the oven-pit, to get warmer, and to get a closer look at the bakers. One Afghan gently grabbed my arm, grinning a devilish smile, and started pulling me inside. He pointed at the fiery pit and then at me. I was a bit scared, until he started laughing, and the other bakers started to laugh, and so I knew that I wouldn't be tossed into the fiery pit.

I got my nan, hopped back on my bicycle, and rode off to my house. My bike was slipping and sliding, and I was having problems navigating, and I looked forward to arriving at my house where I knew I would soon have a roaring fire going in my faithful little oven. My straw hat fell off, but I didn't care, and I didn't want to stop in this freezing weather to pick it up, and so I kept riding, knowing that tomorrow a goat or sheep would discover a tasty treat.
This was the first beautiful night of winter. In Kabul the weather turned off and and on like a light switch. I remember only one time that it rained, and as it rained, I thought, "It's spring today."