My grandparents were born in the same maternity hospital. These two soulmates have been entwined since childhood, but they did not know it, because their real meeting would only come a little later. They got to know each other after 13 years in a small village. They have been in love for all these years. It’s the kind of love story you couldn't believe. 

My grandfather became a helicopter pilot at the age of 22 after graduating from flight school, and he couldn't stay on Ukrainian territory any longer.

“If you got such an important profession, you should climb the corporate ladder.” He flew away to Yakutsk in the east of the Soviet Union—the world's coldest major city, where the temperature ranges from -42° to -56° Celsius in winter.

Time passed and the two soulmates were longing for a reunion. So the strongest woman I know packed her clothes, took their two-year-old child, and caught a plane. She surprised him with her sudden appearance. 

“Our first child was raised in Yakutsk, but I want the second one to be born in Kyiv, Ukraine,” said my grandpa. So they flew away to their real home after 15 years. 

We could say that this is a fascinating life—you can get on a helicopter and fly wherever you want at any moment. But where is your home, the place where you feel safe?

The government gave my grandparents a flat. My family consists of my parents, me, and my sister. My grandparents decided to switch apartments so we could live in the bigger one. This is where the story of my safe place begins. 

When I was five, we moved into what was formerly my grandparents’ home. I ran in there, and chose the furthest room, because it was spacious but dark enough. There was little light because the windows overlooked the balcony. This had been Grandpa’s room. When I walked in on that first day, I could still smell him, which meant the room wasn’t mine yet.

I was allowed to choose a beautiful purple flower wallpaper with a texture on each petal and leaf that guided me as I painted the contour of the flowers with highlighters. 

It was fun to watch the wallpaper being glued on to the wall because it was the process of receiving my own room and space for whatever I wanted.

I used to draw there, and play the piano. It was an amazing time when my parents were at work and my sister was at school. I could invent different sounds on the piano or play one melody over and over to near perfection. 

One night I turned quiet music on in my headphones, picked up an easel, and started to draw a picture that I liked. It was a magical evening that I created for myself.

My room with dark brown furniture. Yes, maybe it wasn’t quite new, not quite perfect, but it was mine. It was my childhood, my adolescence, and the beginning of my youth. It was a place where I cried and I was happy, where I studied almost every day. There were moments when I completely relaxed, watching Gossip Girl on the bed, leaning against the wall, and dreaming about a life like the characters’.

I always knew that I would someday leave my parents’ apartment to create my own space as an adult. You get to the point where you grow up and everything changes. Your need for personal space is growing every day. I needed more, so I started to create this space—a dream place away from my childhood home. I started to organize, live exactly how I wanted, in my new flat. I came to it with the desire to do something for myself. My new chapter was beginning with both flawlessness and some issues. 

The decoration of this flat, the money that I needed for this, the education in university that I needed to finish, the search for a job—I had to deal with all of it. I felt excited in every cell of my body.

But one day ruined my life. At 4:00 am on February 24, 2022, I woke up in a cold sweat from my father’s call: “Wake up! It seems the war has begun. Pack your clothes and documents.” Maybe I hadn’t answered, despite seeing a message from my best friend that she had woken up to the sound of explosions. 

A terrible dream began, which has not ended. But I do want to wake up! I wanted to fight, cry for help, beg for it all to end, and maybe wake up in a world where there is no war, which means that there is no russia in this world. 

You're sitting in a parent’s country house, a relatively safe place (but you can never be sure of it), and the idea that you can lose your loved ones at any second blows your mind.

And then, you don’t even realize for a second that you’re on the way to a safer part of the country, where your parents forced you to go. I found myself in a small village in the western part of my country. I've been visiting this place since I was 15. The memory of a peaceful time in this place hurt even more when I came there because of the war.

Trying to take my mind off everything, I started going to the forest, where I could smell some freedom, some freshness, or to the park where I could sit on the bench like I was on the edge of the universe. I was still checking the news every five minutes, but I was in the forest near different natural sources of water. The days with frozen hands ended, and it became more sightly to relax the whole body in front of the sun.

The cigarette smoke comes to your mouth when you're looking at a beautiful sunset, and you realize that life is horrible, but only people can create something essential in this life. It's the place where time stops, and you can think about yourself. My feelings and stress belong to those places, because they greeted me with calmness, even for short periods of time. It's hard to be positive, but this forest, bench, and fresh air helped me stay in my mind during difficult times.

“How can I feel safe? Where is my place, my home?” This question came to my mind over and over. My conclusion is that “your home is where you are,” for now. Is it very typical, isn’t it? I will remember the smell of something dear to my heart. Every house has its own smell. But while you live there, you do not notice it. My childhood room has the smell of old books and the flowers that I painted on my wall. I hope I’ll learn the smell of my new place, too.