When I recall that day, February 24, it’s hard for me to hold back my emotions, just like for all Ukrainians. This date will forever be marked in my memory with the color of blood. I remember my few days before the start of the war quite well, they were particularly bright and eventful, not just like a gray-colored existence. We were joking, several days before, in the kitchen, that war in the 21st century isn’t possible, that damn International law exists for a reason, that this world will not allow such a thing…
On February 23, my mother decided to go to our hometown for treatment, and I stayed that night with my younger brother and sister. My mother had a train in the evening, and I woke up in the morning of February 24, when my boyfriend called me. He only said: “Varia, wake up, pack your things, the war has started.” I was in a state of total panic, I was lost and a real mess while reading news that didn’t explain anything. And I was seeking a clarification, at least something, but the news gave exactly what I’ve already known. I couldn’t lose myself, because two small pairs of eyes, which no one else would protect, were looking at me. I controlled myself for them. Later my father came and it became easier. All day long my dad and I were reading the news, going down to the basement with small children, we were crying, trying not to get into panic. We were going up home only to eat. While I was feeding the younger ones, dad was packing snacks for us in the basement, and then we were descending again into the dark, cold walls. Only at 10 p.m. we decided not to go down to the basement, but to go to bed, however, no one managed to fall asleep. I felt panicked, I checked the news every two hours, because the occupiers were on Obolon in Kyiv in the evening of February 24. It was unclear what to expect. We continued to go down to the basement in the morning of February 25, but I already had a clear understanding that we needed to look for tickets and go from Kyiv to my hometown. However, there were no tickets anymore, so we decided to go to the station and try to get on the evacuation train. Four people, five minutes, one suitcase and a complete lack of understanding of what things to take, and most importantly, how long it will take. We ran to the evacuation train in absolute chaos and panic, where there was an enormous number of people who, like us, wanted to escape. A frenzied crowd was at every carriage. We managed to get into the carriage, our little compartment held 14 people and various pets. In fact, we were very lucky because we had a place to sit there. My dad and I were sitting, my 3-year-old sister was lying on me and my 9-year-old brother was leaning on me. There was no connection at night due to the high load on the system, and I tried to send at least one message to my mom, but it only arrived after 2 days. Finally, having reached our hometown, we had the opportunity to rest a little and get back to a normal condition. It was calm in our city, and it reminded us of yesterday’s peaceful life, because at that time there were no sirens, no explosions – nothing that would remind us of war. But memories of sirens and hits in the city, the whistling of rockets, along with fear for my brother and sister, the basement, and complete misunderstanding – all of this is already a part of me that I just need to learn to live with and not forget how to breathe.
Translator: Bohdana-Nikolietta Terekhina
