I was driving today when I started to break down.
At first, I didn’t even understand why. Then I looked over and realized it was the sound of children.
A park full of children laughing, play, it was the sound of life.
At the front line, you don’t hear that.
Even when children are still there, you don’t hear parks filled with laughter. You don’t hear that carefree sound of children simply being children.
I had to pull down a side street and stop the car because I couldn’t hold myself together.
And immediately I thought about Oleshky.
Oleshky has been under russian occupation since February 24, 2022. The first day of the full scale invasion.
Today, civilians are trapped there without a safe organized evacuation route. Food deliveries stopped months ago. People are reportedly cooking grass and whatever plants they can find just to eat. There is almost no medicine. Roads are mined. Drones are constantly overhead. An estimated 200 Children are still there.
And winter is coming.
My partner asked me today about having a baby.
Besides the obvious that I’m 38, in the military, and have absolutely no intention of leaving
#Ukraine, I didn’t really know how to answer him.
Because every day I watch Ukrainian parents bury their children.
I watch Ukrainian children describe seeing their parents killed.
I see videos of children going to bed asking their parents to take them to the basement when the ballistic missiles are coming.
I remember the little boy asking his mother why the russians want to kill him.
It isn’t fair.
Children should not understand ballistic missiles.
They should not know the sound of drones or which room in their home has the safest walls.
They should not know hunger, occupation, mines or evacuation routes.
They should know the sound I heard today.
Other children laughing.
#Oleshky needs food. It needs medicine. Its civilians need a safe way out. The children still trapped there deserve the same thing every child deserves: the chance to grow up.
Today I had to pull my car over because hearing children laugh broke something in me.
Maybe because after this many years of war, I had almost forgotten what childhood is supposed to sound like.