None of us really believed it would happen. We went to sleep at night like we always used to, and drifted off into our worlds of dreams. He tossed and turned in his sleep as he would, a wild horse, I'd call him. His forehead rested against my arm, his warm breath hit my skin. We were warm and safe together, we were so good. Yet, on that night, there was an eerie feeling in my stomach. Not everything was quite right.

He woke me up early on Thursday morning, six o'clock, and he told me it had begun. Ten anxious hours later I am watching through the gate as my only love leaves for war, brave, straight, strong... He did not look back over his shoulder once, never once letting fear or doubt take over. He would choose honor over any comfort, and I believe this was always the state of his heart and mind. Meanwhile, I could not fight the tears that poured, shaking uncontrollably like my life had just been snatched away from me. I felt like the emptiest, most fragile little shell in the ocean, beaten around by harsh waves and currents for decades, fragments of me floating away with every clement vibration.

I am afraid. My heart, at moments, feels like it is made of lead. As I lay down, I think it might drop through my flesh. Each time my phone notifies me of something, I rush to see if it is him. Usually it is not. Just more news. News, news, news. I am drowning in news, and yet none of them tell me what I need to know. Then again, they deliver the encouragement everyone here needs desperately. I have not changed my mind. I think these are the most extraordinary human beings. People just like me and him, his family... They woke up one day, and their whole world had changed in a matter of seconds... That's how long it takes for a missile to fly across the sky and hit its target. The whole process of course, takes more calculation. While the people were still holding out for hope on Wednesday, the enemy had already predecided the events which would take place during the next hours and days. Whether it will be weeks, or even months, we are yet to see. Each part of my being prays it will be over soon, but I would be lying if I said I believed that.

Just earlier the warning sirens played, but not for long. Perhaps it was just a test, or a false alarm. 

A rooster keeps crowing outside. The dogs in the yards bark at the tiniest disturbances. Time passes slowly, and all we seem to be able to do now is wait. I even pondered for a moment whether I should have gone up there with him. I know that wouldn't have been very wise of course. He would have not allowed it either. Perhaps, at times, the bravest thing one can do is to remain patient and calm in face of danger and threat.

He called me and said he was okay for now. "For now" can perhaps stretch to comfort me for a few hours more. We all must take it one hour at a time, as everyday life is put on hold.

25th of February, 2022, Ukraine.