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The Picture

by Katie T.


I used to work as a businesswoman, not a housekeeper with sentimental things that bring warmth to a house. But I had several photographs on the refrigerator - my son, two years old, with an open mouth full of joy and laughter and playful eyes, trying to reach something; my daughter, four months old in a colourful blanket with the smile of Mona Lisa. She was so small that she could only lie and turn her head to her brother, smiling, cuddling his fingers, lying, and watching each other with glances full of curiosity and hope. Whenever I felt angry, and it happened with two never-sitting- still kids of almost the same age, I looked at those pictures, breathed slowly, concentrated on the happy moments, and calmed down. In the hotel room, stuck on the mirror, I’ve one photograph, but I hate how I look in it. My niece took the picture. Lviv’s Town Hall stands behind us, the centre of the city with a new flavour, not as we used to feel it - with a light heart, the spirit of holidays and adventures. On the radio, “Don’t forget to have your papers in your pocket, a name and contact number in case of emergency, your GP.” People concentrated on their own thoughts, kept silent, searched on their devices for places that were hit, no electricity, the songs of air alarms, and the fullness of empty places. This picture is a memory of us together - me, my husband, and our kids. We took to Ireland the memory of those few days of catching-up over Christmas. Miles away, so far and so near with loved ones, together we could overcome any difficulty. Thankfully I have a great bunch of people around me who give me a lot of support. I thank them for being who they are and shower them with love.


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