Afghanistan always feels like a study in contrasts—stark beauty fraught with great peril, or deep frustrations lined with incredible memories. Of my brief time in that great, sweeping conflict, I remember most vividly the people I met and the moments that reminded me of our shared humanity.

My cultural background shaped my experience in Afghanistan. My family moved from India to the United States when I was three years old. My sister and I were raised to remember our heritage while recognizing and cherishing the values and opportunities of this country. When Afghans learned of my background, some would speak to me in Hindi. (I was surprised to learn that some officers had trained in India and many youngsters loved Bollywood films/music.) We often spoke of the similarities of our cultures, and some began to share with me their aspirations or fears about the future. I may never know the impact of those conversations. Perhaps they were only short exchanges to pass the time. Even so, I feel privileged to have had that unique glimpse into those lives.

And I will never forget my colleagues, the uniformed volunteers (from an appallingly small fraction of our population) and the invisible civilians who made the journey. I could always rely on them for support… and endless laughter. So whether it was in Afghanistan or in the large Polygon by the river, I will never forget the unique experiences and memories we shared. I am a better person for having known them.