A Moment In The Ukrainian Country
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A Moment In The Ukrainian Country

Here's what it's like to walk in the countryside of Ukraine.

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A Moment In The Ukrainian Country
Christina Taylor

I carry nothing but my plastic grocery bag

Containing the last of my Verreniki that I was given

From a babushka on the side of the only narrow street of Lyviv.

There is no home destination in front of me

But still I proceed across the dusty gravel road before me

With the remaining strip of sole left under me.


The other side of the gravel road yields an eternity of tiny lonely rubber heads

That remind me of the pasture of goldenrod that I spent last night in

Except there is no golden color reflecting the sun

And there is no trace of grass for me to rest my head upon.

Still I allow the remaining strip of sole to hit the ground as I walk.


I am not searching for a home, I do not think.

My mind is filled to the gills with wondering about what to do when my food runs out.

The ground is dry and dusty

Ruling out the possibility of a source of water nearby.

Still I continue this walk until I hear a snap of a twig.


I pause and nothing seems out of place amongst the hundreds of rubber heads

Yet there is a group of powdered dust that has lifted into the air

Just a short distance in front of me.


First the coal black nose,

Then the crystal brown eyes

Followed by the pointed ears that lead a brown speckled body and tail towards me

And out of the dust bowl his paws have created.


He bounds for me and I crouch down to one knee to receive him.

His cold nose nudges my hand

And I respond with the first smile I have produced since I lost the sense of belonging I once had.

My hand buries itself in his thick fur

And I cannot help but offer this dog

A home in my heart.


I stand up and keeping the eyes on my new companion,

Begin walking again

Realizing that I finally have something to call home.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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