I followed the news until late that night and went to bed afraid that the next day I would be seeing the faces of some of the casualties on Facebook and television.
After the explosion, police poured into the streets. A young officer knocked on our door and advised us to leave the area as it was in range of enemy fire.
All told, almost every Afghan family has lost at least one person to the conflict over the past four decades.
There is a lush green place out there, and like millions of Afghans before them, my people will risk everything to get to it.
I hoped that this happiness would spill outside the walls into the streets and up to the highways that ran to villages that had forgotten what peace and freedom felt like.
My country doesn’t have much left, but I am certain it is rich in the bravery of its people.
Wazhma Furmuli is a board member of the Initiative to Educate Afghan Women and former Afghan refugee who worked at the American University of Afghanistan while she pursued her dream of education. The views expressed here are her own.
*Editor's note: Furmuli's brother's name has been changed to protect his identity.