So I have missed two days out of the 31 for 21 challenge. It makes me sad but what are you going to do with stomach flu? And I just figured out that if I post at night it’s already the next day at WordPress. Oh well. Now I’ve confessed and I am moving forward.
I wanted to go back to the way things were.
In the apartment a picture of my oldest daughter sat on our coffee table, a gray cold stare, no smile, no semblance of America. She was beautiful yet so different then how I was at that time in my life. She was Ukrainian. Old yellow photos of my childhood, year after year of a girl with brown hair and a wide, mischievous grin were stuffed away in my parent’s hutch. I was American.
I sat through a ‘welcome to school’ meeting for Elaina’s preschool in Ukrainian grasping at words that sounded like Russian, trying to act like I was taking notes like all the other dutiful, sullen mothers in the auditorium. Zoya no longer complained about adorning tights and pants and a thick black snow suit just to step out the door for half of the year. The girls were growing and thriving by eating fish and beets, salads and potatoes. I finally found a few clothing stores I liked for me and the kids. I actually enjoyed going to my Russian class.
Almost every week someone new showed up at our house church on the second floor of an apartment complex in the Pechersk region of Kiev. I loved Sundays, people stuffed into our living room, the enclosed balcony opened up for one or two more to fit in. There was singing and laughing and food and growth as I sat in the corner of our living room and tried to follow Sergei’s quick mouthed Russian sermons. Mounds of open faced sandwiches were tirelessly prepared after church; mayonnaise and sausage, butter and fish on slices of thick bread with a twig of fresh parsley on top. Toddlers who didn’t make it to the bathroom in time fumbled around the apartment in my kids’ pants.