Ukraine

She needed her favorite doll and would not budge without the kitten or the blanket her mother had made. “Moya malenʹka lyubov,” Olek hurried. “We have to go.” The boy was packed already and was downstairs loading as much of the pantry as he could carry for a child of only ten. His daughter was crying; she needed books and paper and her princess crown. “Budʹ laska,” Olek pleaded. Please, little one. Please. He heard the first explosion and almost crumbled to the floor (finding it suddenly hard to breathe). “I have waited too long; I was too slow, too weak. I have killed us,” he whispered, heartbroken, to his wife under the hill and, to his surprise, she answered. “We found that little underground room in the Zhuk barn; do you remember?” she said gently. “Do you remember?” And Olek did remember, grabbing his daughter and dragging his son (with the kitten and the tiny dog stuffed into his backpack) as he ran out of the kitchen door into the field. It was if he could see her up ahead - just there, waving to them with that wry smile of hers and hair the color of gold. This way. It’s this way. Although the barn was more than a kilometer west, Olek made impossibly good time; he simply ran with all that was left in him (a raw and driving need to keep everything he loved safe at all costs). He collided with the barn door upon arrival, throwing it open, and rushing to find the lip of the floor (the rough edge along the wall by the tack led to a bent nail that served as a doorknob). Hold on. Just hold on. She was afraid of spiders, his daughter, but there were so many other things to fear now. “Dyvysʹ!” his wife said then, and he did look. There were lanterns and food already in the room; there were bed rolls in the corners and all of the spiders had been cleared away. “I don’t understand,” Olek sputtered, closing the trap door above them and dropping to his knees. Trembling and gasping for breath, he could smell her perfume (the scent that reminded him of sunflowers and sweet almond paste) and it helped him to settle and concentrate. They all slept a bit when their anxiety dropped a bit, and Olek dreamt that the Zhuks’ oldest son, Yeva, had appeared at the breakfast table (to his parents’ shock and wonderment, for he lay under the hill also) and urged them to stock the barn hold before they fled. They didn’t question him as to why or hesitate. “Dyakuyu!” Olek called to them (watching the scene through a window and tapping on the glass), but they could not hear him. “Thank you so much!” There would be fear, anger, laughter, and more sleep in the coming days - tremendous uncertainty and despair also, but there would come a time not so far in the future when many generations would gather to tell stories of the little room, its legacy, and how the ones we can’t forget remember us as well.