September 13, 2022. Day 202 of the war.
Mom was full of energy. We talked about African violets that my grandma used to grow on all the windowsills. She told me about people she worked with in Kyiv and Kharkiv, and how her thesis defense went all those years ago. We remembered some family members from the generation before her. Dad was having a medical procedure and was away.
Mom told me about some "fat emails". I asked her: what does it mean - "fat emails". She replied - they wanted me to buy something. I am still not sure why she called them fat :)She feels very much uprooted and spoke about home a lot on this day. Dad is still away. When I called him on the cell phone, I got a message that he is on the other line. The way it was phrased was approximately like this: "Please be patient while the person you called is on the other line. Perhaps this is a call that is bringing our victory closer. Together we will prevail." This small touch made my day.
September 17, 2022. Day 206 of the war.
Dad is back. We discussed two different poets (my parents were quoting, but I was not fast enough to write the text). The conversation turned to what haircut I might get - typical for me, I said that I might shave my head. Typical for my parents, they did not say "NO" - they started telling me how I will become a good find for someone practicing phrenology and how I might not enjoy that. We remembered some people who are no longer with us, and Mom said: they are lucky that they do not see this horror in our country. But we are lucky too - because we are alive. People in both groups are lucky - just in different ways.
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