A Garden in Kyiv
I've often wondered what it's like to live in a war zone such as Ukraine, or Syria, Gaza, and Lebanon. How does a woman find food for her family, a simple act of living the day-to-day in a
I've often wondered what it's like to live in a war zone such as Ukraine, or Syria, Gaza, and Lebanon. How does a woman go about finding food for her family, a simple act of living the day-to-day in a place under siege.
Today, President Zelensky arrives in Turkey to meet with Putin to negotiate a ceasefire long enough to agree on a peaceful and lasting end to the Ukraine War. This short story is inspired by a news photo posted shortly after the beginning of the Russian invasion into Ukraine. That particular photo has been lost among thousands of photos of shattered cities and smoke and the people wandering among the ruins.
A Garden in Kyiv
She emerges from her basement, looks around for movement, and listens for gunshots. The bombs fell all night as she and her husband cringed in the furthest corner of the cellar. Four close walls muffle the sounds. No windows to scatter broken glass across the comforter on the bed. The air fetid with the smell of filth and fear.
Slowly, she walks toward the garden. Frost has tinged the edges of leaves. Something has nibbled at the carrots, but she's able to pull a few from the loam. There are a couple of potatoes as well. A few beans droop from the vines. The leaves are wilting and turning brown. Winter is coming but the garden still grows a few things not blighted by smoke and the ash from burning buildings nearby. Her own house now has holes in the roof and walls. Shards of glass and brick pave the pathway to the garden now.
She hears something rustle nearby. A shadow creeps closer. She turns and walks as fast as her old legs will carry her just as a sniper bullet snaps a piece of the door frame into her face. In the darkness of the stair well, she trips and slides to the bottom, scraping her legs and back. Her husband lifts her to her feet and slams the door closed. He cradles her face and wipes the blood from the wound. Slowly, they gather the vegetables that fell from her apron.
Lighting the stove ring to heat some water, she brushes dirt from the carrots. These are the last ones left. The garden is almost finished. She hopes to God they will not soon follow.
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Sadly I have discovered that the battery quality of Kindles has deteriorated to such a ridiculous level, I don't want to recommend you purchase my books, Paradise Ridge, When the Horses Come and Go, and Ghost in the Forest that are currently available on Kindle. If you have an old Kindle and you like to live dangerously, you will be able to enjoy all three books from under $10. Ghost in the Forest, however, is available in paperback.
Beautifully written, Sue. This same tragedy of GREED, plays out in so many places around the world. We in the US have been spared. So far. Californians have bins of food and supplies put by, pretending to prepare for earthquakes. Now we are just glad to have them, earthquake or not...
I've often wondered about managing one's day to day in a war zone, too, Sue. Good weather, foul weather, hot or freezing, one has to figure it out, or not. Many adjust to trauma, not normalize it, but figure it out. Sometimes the trauma ends, sometimes it continues. A close work friend has most of his family in Israel and he and I often talk about what becomes normal in one's life. For his family, it's not knowing if they'll be called up to serve - again - and if so, for how long. He said, "But my family still has kids in school, they have sports games, they go to the grocery store, they don't stop living." Beautiful post.