In Murree, a hill station town, most daily routines revolved around two main shopping areas: the Upper and Lower Bazaars. Girls from my school could only go to the Upper Bazaar, which was considered safer because of its open spaces, tourist shops, and restaurants. The Lower Bazaar was a narrow, steep alley, packed with interesting shops between old colonial buildings as it wound down the hillside. Only the boys from school were allowed to go down there, which seemed unfair to me.

After class on Thursdays, we ran back to the dormitory to change our clothes. Thursdays were shopping days for the girls at Murree Christian School, and the green school bus would leave in 15 minutes.

On my dad’s 84th birthday, Harvey called to ask about Dad’s disconnected phone. Harvey was Dad’s last remaining friend from their generation. They’d survived the Korean War together and shared many good times in the years that followed.