My grandchildren were blessed with gift of energy, something they certainly got from my husband Humnoy's side of the family. They ran around the dusty yard play-fighting with sticks.

"Enough!" my daughter yelled. She shifted uncomfortably on the stool, belly swollen with her third child.

"Grandma, grandma! Can you take us to the caves?"

My two bright-eyed grandsons' queries were hard to deny. My daughter nodded, probably looking for a moment of peace. We collected some flowers and candles to bring as an offering in memory of people who passed long before their time. The boys had never gone up before and they were old enough now to hear the tale.

"Did you play in the caves when you were a kid?" Mee asked and trotted close at my side.

"These caves are not for playing. They are very special caves and part of the history of our village and our family."

"Why are they so special?" Nok asked.

"You'll see soon."

Our sandals kicked up dust on the side of the road, all the way to the river. The boys were thrilled to play in the low flowing waters. The cool touch of the stream brought back the sounds of those jets, whizzing past overhead. I could almost feel the hundreds of people rushing past me, eyes wide with fear, voices panicked. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I urged the boys to move forward, up toward the limestone peaks.

We walked down the narrow path near a farmer's field. The crops in the nearby field boasted gold and bronze, just like my family used to harvest. However, on this farm the animals had been replaced with machines. 

The boys ran as they saw the mouths of the caves. They quipped away in excitement, a welcome sound to contrast the screams of babies and children, which had come from this direction as everyone ran for shelter forty years ago.

I took them to the far cave, the one I knew all too well. The rocks and sand crunched under my sandals as my knees burned trying to tackle the incline. Mee and Nok had no issues running and climbing up the rocky path. It took me an extra few minutes to join their exclamations of wonder due to the physical and emotion pain.

"What are these holes?" Mee asked, running his hand on the wall.

"They are from shrapnel and explosions," I said with more calm than my mind and body possessed.

"Seriously? Real bullets?"

I placed the flowers on the ground in front of the space where the boys stood. I lit one of the candles before placing it alongside the flowers. As I brought my tired body to rest on the ground, the boys joined me.

"Long ago, when your grandmother was only a young woman, a little older than you, Mee, there was a war that went on in Laos. We did not really know at the time, but close to us, in Vietnam, a war went on. People from other parts of the world came to help them fight. The armies had weapons more powerful than anyone had seen in Laos. They dropped bombs from the sky and shot at our villages from their airplanes. All we could do was to hide in these caves and pray."

"Why did they do it, grandma?"

"It's hard to know. Maybe they were afraid that we would help or join the wrong side. The most important part that you boys must always remember is that there are still many bombs out there, hiding and waiting to be found."

"They didn't explode?"

"No and it's very dangerous. That's why you must always play in our yard and no further."

Nok's slumped body brought a tear to my eye. I nudged him to look up at the wall where the words 'I love you' had been written beside the bullet holes.

"It's a sad part of our history that we must accept and keep fighting today. But sometimes out of awful times, come beautiful moments. The first time your grandfather told me he loved me was in this cave."    

"Yuck, a love story, grandma?" Mee protested, but Nok looked on with big eyes.     

***

Nong Khiaw, Laos 1968

The meat sizzled in the pan as I threw in more oil. The smell of spice and cilantro wafted up and I smiled. How surprised would Humnoy be when I brought this to him in at the farm with sticky rice? If I could only make him smile, all my efforts would be realized. He spent so many hours working lately; we never had time to see each other anymore.

I ran down the dirt road leading out to the fields.  The water buffalo plowed the dark earth, nearly ready for fresh seedlings. Humnoy drew my attention right away. He focused on leading the wooden plow around behind the large animal. Like a small child after a storm, most of his body was caked with wet earth. Yet something inside me still wanted to run out and embrace my childhood friend.

"Humnoy," one of his brothers called out from the field.

He swung his head from side to side until his eyes settled on me. I suddenly wished I had thought to wear a cleaner skirt and top. Regardless, his teeth gleamed in the hot sun and his lips tugged into a smile. I hadn't even brought him his favourite dish yet.

"Thooey! What are you doing here? I'm surprised. Happy, but surprised."

"We had extra laab at our house and I know it's your favourite." He didn't need to know I had waited all week for my father to butcher the chicken. I used whatever my parents were willing to spare to cook the spicy minced meat dish for my dear Humnoy.

"Laab? Thooey, you spoil me rotten. How can I ever thank you?"

"Have lunch with me," I called out, almost eating my own words a second later.

"Of course."

As I walked alongside him, small quick steps to match his tall strides, I couldn't help but wonder at how much my friend had changed over the past year. The other girls in the village whispered about him, how lucky they could be to have him as a husband one day. I laughed with them, but they didn't know Humnoy like I did. Only I knew how he liked to nap under the shade of the tall teak tree or the way he squirmed when cold water ran between his toes.

An unnatural, mechanical sound came from above. Humnoy and I stopped dead in our tracks. His brothers' cries blended into the cacophony. The air roared again as the noise grew closer. Humnoy wore a deep frown.

"Thooey, you need to go to the caves."

"Why?"

"Soon the sky will rain with the tears of war. It's too dangerous. I must get my mother and sisters to safety. Please go, I will meet you there."

I could do nothing but listen to his request with a heavy conscious. My heart raced with the vibrations travelling through the air again, closer. I didn't dare look up. I had only seen the source of the noise once before, the foreign flying objects which hardly ever travelled near our village. The airships travelled from far away; no Laotian built technology like that. So much destruction in such a small package.

My cousins living in a province closer to the Laos/Vietnam border had sent news that their bombings came more often and with increased force. We were the lucky ones. I wasn't sure what our people had ever done to make the pilots so angry. My feet carried me to the safest place any of us knew, Tham Pha Thok cave.

The road wound around from the farm and I kept praying that Humnoy and his family wound make it in time. Soon, the crowds migrating to the caves increased. I spotted my sister and her husband down the path near the river. We had to lift our skirts to make it through the water with minimal damage. I would take the ruining of my clothes over the ruining of my body any day. My mind began to wander to my father, also working in the fields. Would he make it in time?

Once across the river, we ran up to the safe arms of the limestone peaks. The hum of the engines had quieted. We ran down to the further cave to help those who may not be blessed with the gift of time once the beasts returned.

People rushed up the narrow path into the mouth of the cave, two steps at a time. Mothers and their babies, wrapped tightly to their bodies, dark faced farmers and small children were all crammed inside with eyes downcast. All we could do now was wait and hope that the jets only wanted to fly past our village. But from the somber eyes of the elders, I knew that fate probably had other plans.

Many people held their prayer beads. Others made offers to a make-shift shrine, bowing and lighting candles in exchange for a promise of safety. I looked down at the bamboo containers in my hands. Humnoy would understand. I needed to ensure that he and the rest of my family could make it here safely. I placed his food with the other donations as I sat on my knees and bowed my head down to the ground.

The cool rock jerked to life as my forehead grew nearer. A blast cracked through the air, muffling the screams of small children and mothers. We waited. Slow agonizing moments passed before anyone spoke. My ears were ringing.

"Is anyone hurt?" a man called out.

Whispers recommenced, but no loud cries came forth. My heart trembled; how close was my family or my Humnoy? Silence ensued for the next five minutes, except for the footsteps of new shelter seekers. I scanned their faces one by one with no luck. The line of newcomers came to a trickle and a near stop. Still no sign.

The roar of engines grew louder. I bit my lip and shot my eyes over to my donation. Please, don't let them die. What had any of us done to deserve this fate? This was not our war. My sister took my hand and squeezed gently as a tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly and took slow breaths. They could be at the other caves.

"Thooey," my sister whispered.

She gestured over to the mouth of the cave where Humnoy led his young sisters toward the back of the cave. He scanned the crowds and my heart couldn't help but wonder if I was the one he sought. Half the weight of my chest had been lifted. The mouth of the cave remained empty. Father must have been in the other cave; he had to be. I squeezed my sister's hand again.

Humnoy had settled his family and looked around until our gazes collided. The biggest smile spread across his lips. My sister gestured to me to go see him. She was more than familiar with our longstanding friendship. I made a path through the people sitting and praying with their families on the floor until I reached him

"You made it," I said. "I was afraid when I heard the first explosion."

"It was far enough from the farm and the caves. We were okay."

I smiled at his mother who held both of her young daughters close. "Was the explosion in the village?"

Humnoy nodded and he avoiding looking me in the eye. I frowned because I knew that look.

"Humnoy, please, what do you know?"

"I can't be certain. I don't want to say." He reached out for my hand. The shock of the action made me want to pull away. He stroked my palm with his calloused fingers, the signs of a hard working boy. Strangeness overtook me; Humnoy rarely made gestures like this. "You made it here. You're safe. You'll be okay."

The following morning, my shoulders shook in the hands of another. I hadn't realized that I had fallen asleep with Humnoy and his family. My cheeks went red until I saw my friend reaching out a hand to help me up.

"Come with me," he said.

"Did something happen?" I asked. He shook his head and I followed him out to the mouth of the cave. My body trembled with each step.

"There have been no planes for hours."

I nodded and sat next to him on the ledge overlooking our village.

"Thooey, when I saw you run to the caves, my heart was done for. Until I saw your beautiful face again, I was worried I would have nothing to cherish and that you would never know how much I care about you. I love you."

Tears sprung to my eyes and I hugged him tight. I wanted to be happy, but I caught sight of my family's blackened field in the distance. My father... my brothers...

***

Over forty years later, the tears came back. I could still recall my mother approaching the farm that day; it would never leave me. The charred earth and burnt crops were manageable losses, but my family, thrown and torn apart like children's dolls in the blast, could not recover so easily. 

My mother flung herself upon the earth and cried in ways I'd never heard from a human being. I imagined her spirit was being ripped from her body to join them in another life, but never succeeded. Guilt weighed down on me. I should have been at home. Mother could have sent me to the fields to get them instead this tragedy.

Sadly, this wasn't the only time our village was attacked. The bombs got closer and closer to the caves until they left the scars my grandchildren stared at in awe this afternoon.

A gentle kiss on my temple brought my out of my daze. I looked up at Humnoy's gentle face, wrinkled with age and concern.

"Thooey, I know your brain is at work again. It was not your fault."

More tears fell on her skirt. "But, I could have done something. I should have warned them on the way over to the caves."

"They heard it too, Thooey. You wouldn't have had time. Now get plenty of rest. You need to be strong to take care of your beautiful grandchildren."

His khaki uniform brought sadness into my heart, knowing that he'd be out of province for the next week while our daughter visited. He kissed me again before leaving. As the door closed, I sighed. 

Despite missing him, I couldn't be prouder of my husband. A few years ago, he joined an organization who disarmed of all the undetonated bombs in the country. There were still so many. I didn't know if anyone would ever find them all, but every story he told me about disarming the explosives gave me hope. I knew one less person would be hurt by the same ammunition that took the lives of my father and brothers so many years ago.

***

Thanks for taking the time to read. I know I've spent a fair bit of time telling a fictional story inspired by the photo, but as an aside I thought I'd add some more background since this is a real issue that touches my heart.

I took this photo while visiting a North Laotian village called Nong Khiaw. A local guide was kind enough to share the history and combined with some research it became the inspiration for this short story. The function of the caves in the mid 1960s to the early 1970s was to serve as a hiding place when US troops would drop bombs on the country during the Vietnam War. Laos is one the the most heavily bombed countries in the world, even compared with nations today. Nearly 30 percent of all the bombs dropped or ammunition used during the civil war have not been detonated. Every year Laotian people are killed or maimed by this threat. If you're interested in more information check out the external link that gives more information on the situation. Thanks again for reading.