Mornings in the Kyiv Metro
I woke up again to the sound of the biggest fireworks going off. At least that’s what mom and dad keep telling me. I know it’s not fireworks. Once again my mother has forced me out of my warm bed in a rush as the fireworks were growing in volume and I just barely made out the screams of the neighborhood. Once again in the middle of the night, she makes me throw on my boots, coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and extra socks. It seems like she dresses me in everything we still have left. Mom and dad gave pretty much everything away to the soldiers that keep coming by. Seems like once a day.
I know my mom and dad are cold as they rush me out of our house and down into the old metro station. The fireworks keep popping off as my dad picks me up and runs me down into the tunnel. He drops me on the ground and runs after mom. Moments later they come down and hug me. Mom hums this lullaby that grandma use to sing. I haven’t heard much about her in the past week. Mom and dad hold and hug me as the fireworks cause the ceiling to shake. Dust and old tiles fall down, and every time right as I’m about to fall back asleep I hear the soft cry of someone that got hit with one of those stained-white tiles.
It’s weird to wake up in the metro. Last week I would have been here with a full belly and wearing my wrinkled uniform that mom would always scorn me for, waiting for the number twenty-four train. Dad use to walk me here and would always wait until the doors closed and I was on my way. The biggest smile was on both of our faces. As my train left he would always be running off to get his train to work.
I haven’t been to school in over a week, nor have I had more than cold sandwiches passed out by the nice ladies in uniforms for breakfast. Mom and dad haven’t said exactly why but I overhear their frantic phone calls from the other room. Always the same conversation. Something about Russians, Putin, NATO, something called “the no-fly zone” or some bad words mom would smack my bum for if I repeated them. I always, always hear them ask if we’re safe. I don’t think we are.
Dad is the toughest, strongest, and bravest man in our neighborhood. He got those evil wild cats out of the house after we came back from seeing grandma. He always gets the disgusting nightmare spiders out of our house without even flinching. He didn’t even cry when mom dropped that heavy pot on his barefoot. Now every time we wake up together in the ice-cold metro station, hiding from the fireworks, he has tears in his eyes.
Every morning in the metro my feet feel like ice. My side always hurts. The nice ladies who pass out sandwiches gave us a big blanket and a couple of pillows but the hard tile floors prove to be a stronger adversary. As the nice ladies and the big strong soldiers give us the all-clear to leave I see more houses destroyed. Caved in like the snow forts my friends and I build every Christmas break. Sometimes during our walk dad covers my eyes and tells me to cover my ears. I smell pennies and rotten eggs and hear muffled screams.
I never thought I would say I miss school. I never thought I would miss bedtimes. I miss my friends. Tomorrow is my eleventh birthday. Last week, I was begging mom and dad for this little remote control fighter jet. Now I get a brief view of a life-sized one before dad and mom run me down back to the metro.
Author’s Note:
Hey, this is Parker James here. This story might be fiction but the sad truth is that for too many people living in Ukraine right now, something like this is the reality. No matter where you live we can help. If you have money to spare for food, medicine, weapons, give it to the right people. If money is tight as it is for a lot of people, annoy the crap out of your local leaders through phone calls, tweets, emails, or visiting their office directly. NATO can drag its feet about getting the Ukrainians the help they need but we don’t have to. For anyone in Ukraine that reads this. The safety of your families, your homes, your cafes, your communities, and your country is in our hearts and prays. Give Putin and his stupid war hell.
