Newspaper: 24th February 2022: Start of War: Ukraine Under Siege as Russian Forces Launch Wide-Scale Invasion
[Letter One – Handwritten, dated 12th March 2022]
Read aloud softly by Mum to an eager Lilia who sits cross-legged on the kitchen floor desperate for news and clinging onto her teddy bear.
My dearest Lilia,
Today, I woke to the soft lullaby of a hummingbird, it reminded me of you and your beautiful singing voice. It was a moment of rare freedom in wartime.
The ground near Kherson is sodden now, every step heavy, but if you pause, if you let the silence in, the air still carries spring’s crisp scent. I remember you used to love Springtime when you’d run after dandelions, bursting with excitement, convinced that your wish was on the verge of coming true.
I want you to know I’m okay. The sounds are loud, sometimes deafening, but I think of you and your voice, and it steadies me.
Remember what I told you freedom is whatever you make it. Out here, freedom is a rarity, yet I discover it every time I write to you.
Love, Papa
Two weeks later…
The letter came folded in three perfect creases, like the bedsheets Papa used to fold when Mama let him do laundry. Lila held it like it was a warm cup of tea, even though the words inside always made her feel cold.
Lila had stopped asking when he was coming home. The last time she did, Mama stared out the window for so long Lilia thought she’d forgotten how to speak.
Newspaper: 24th March 2022: Ukrainian soldiers bravely continue despite Russian onslaught
[Letter Two – Email printout, dated 26th March 2022]
Hey sunshine,
We got internet for a few hours, so I wanted to type something quick before the signal disappears again. They’ve pulled us closer to Bakhmut. It’s quieter than before, though that kind of quiet feels like the quiet before a storm.
Men talk of honour, justice but all I want is return safe for you and mum.
I kept a little blue ribbon you tied around your teddy bear last summer. It’s in my coat pocket. When I feel scared, I touch it reminds me that I’m safe when I’m thinking of you.
Kiss Mama twice for me. One for today, and one for tomorrow. Papa
Mid June
Lila carried the blue ribbon in her own pocket now. She hadn’t told Mama. She’d found it on the windowsill after one of the letters, tucked under the cracked ceramic cat Papa brought back from Kyiv years ago.
There were only three letters now. She knew each by the type of paper, the kind of fold, the smudges near the signature.
Newspaper; 26th June 2022: Ukrainian battle on the Southeastern front leaves Russia retreating
[Letter Three – Scrawled in pencil, dated 26th June 2022]
My brave girl,
We don’t know what day it is anymore, not really.
I have forgotten how to exist outside this warzone it is becoming more and more difficult to remember what normal life is like. All I know now is distant gunfire and constant anticipation. These letters are seemingly my only rest bite and freedom. This warzone is like a sphere of anxiety which I can’t escape.
I have made a friend though; me and Artem find each other good company. He’s got a daughter to, roughly your age. After this is all finished, I’ve said we should meet up.
He’s really funny and artistic like you Lilia and he draws loads of funny pictures for all of us. He did one today of me in a silly hat, it was hilarious.
Remember to always stay, silly Lilia.
Yours, Papa
Late August
This letter was different. The envelope looked stamped properly and had our flag on it. Mama didn’t read it out loud. However, Lila had already seen part of it, the sharp pen marks, the way it looked rushed, like the words wanted to escape the page. It wasn’t Papa’s usual message.
Newspaper, 27th August, Russo-Ukraine war: Battle of Avdiivka deemed one of bloodiest since WW2 claims the lives of thousands
[Official Document – Stamped, Delivered 29th August 2024]
Typed. Folded crisply. Unread.
To the family of Captain Ivan Kovalenko,
We regret to inform you that Captain Kovalenko was fatally wounded in an artillery strike while conducting tactical operations near Avdiivka on the 27th of August. His unit attempted to carry him to safety, but sadly, he succumbed to his injuries at the location of the strike.
Captain Kovalenko was a dedicated and respected officer, one whom all could have respect and admiration for in the course of his duties. He demonstrated his courage in many aspects of his work, particularly through the way in which he buoyed the spirits of all those around him. Please accept our sincerest condolences at this difficult time. A more formal ceremony will take place on the 10th of September.
Minister of Defence of Ukraine, Rustem Umerov
Afterwards…
Lila didn’t cry. Not when the document came. Not when Mama dropped to her knees and howled. Not even the crashing thunder and rain poured throughout the night like the world was ending.
She took the ribbon out of her pocket and tied it around the ceramic cat’s neck. Then she sat down and wrote her first letter.
[Letter – Dated 3rd June 2024] Unsent. No address. Green felt tip. Hi Papa,
I miss you. But I still hear you.
Mama can’t say your name yet. That’s okay. I’ll say it enough for both of us.
I brought your bear picture to school. Everyone laughed. I think you’d like that. I also told everyone at school that freedom is what you want it to be even in hard times. I think you would like that too.
Love, Your Lilia
The ceremony
The ceremony was small. A few men in uniforms, stiff and silent. Flags. A wooden box that didn’t seem big enough for someone like Papa.
Lilia didn’t wear black. She wore yellow—the colour of sunflowers, the colour of Papa’s favourite coffee mug. She stood next to Mama and didn’t flinch when the guns fired into the sky.
After, she walked home alone and opened the last letter again. This time, she folded it into a paper plane and let it fly from her window.
It didn’t go far. But it went. And it was free.