Peremoha Station — the Station Called Victory
Khreschatyk Station is still one of the busiest metro stations in the center of Kyiv. Despite the war, many people stay in the city; there are just more of those who wear military uniforms.
It was a Saturday evening last winter. I was standing at the Khreshchatyk platform. It was a casual weekend. I was coming back from a walk.
Metro is an excellent space for thinking, and since it was dinner time, I was asking myself hungry questions. Should I cook something? Should I order? What do I even want?
When the train stopped, most of the people exited. For several seconds, it was almost empty before other people, me included, flooded the space again.
While still waiting to enter the train, I notice a family inside and the questions about the dinner become secondary.
There are four of them sitting on the bench — a couple in their late thirties or maybe early forties and two kids. The girl is older. She looks like she is 14, and the boy is 10.
There is something tender and sweet in what I am witnessing. I want to observe them, so I choose to stand next to the family during this metro ride.
All of them are huddling with each other. The wife leans on her husband’s shoulder. She holds a cake on her lap. Their gazes are not focused. It looks like their thoughts are far-far away from here.
Their kids lean on them from both sides. They don’t talk.
From the chevrons on the husband’s uniform, I get as much information as he serves in the Ukrainian Armed Forces. I continue my analysis.
What if he has just come back from the frontline? They have not seen each other for long. That is why he is holding her hand, and she is holding the cake. It’s a happy end for their family or rather a happy break — rotation.
I try to imagine how this family will spend their evening. Probably, they are going to one of the residential districts on the right side of Kyiv. What are they having for dinner? Is their flat cozy? Do they have pets?
What I know for sure is that they will have the cake and some tea!
The train has already passed Teatralna and is rushing to the station Universytet. More questions arise in my head. What was this soldier before the war? An IT specialist? An accountant? A doctor? Maybe he was a teacher or a lawyer? He does not look like someone who would pursue a military career in a peaceful time. Rather short than tall, not perfectly fit. He is wearing glasses. His uniform is new, and the haircut is clean.
Right after the train passes the Universytet station, the whole family gets up. Everyone tries to get at least a bit of the man’s attention.
To touch him. To look at him. To smell him.
They are so reverent. It makes me smile. How long have they not seen each other? Perhaps months. It runs through my mind, and the voice of the announcement stops the flow of my thoughts.
Vokzalna station, a railway.
It clicks. New uniform, all of this tactility, and silence. And the railway.
No questions are left in my head, but a request. Please, do not exit now; skip this one. Not this time. First, you need to drink tea and eat cake. There are so many other stations to go to.
Four are not rushing, waiting until everyone who needs it exits. The husband gets his heavy backpack with a Ukrainian flag in his right hand and holds his wife’s hand in the other.
They get out. The door closes. “Next Station — Polityhnichnyi Instytut.”
The next station does not matter. Nothing matters but the fact that this family will not eat that cake together.
And my dinner? I can eat my dinner in Kyiv because this family paid for it. The price is their separation.
Despite the war, many people stay in the city; there are just more of those who wear military uniforms.
Ignoring the “Do not lean on the door” sign, I do the opposite as my body gets heavy. It is not warm anymore. It is hot here. I get as much air in my lungs as I can and look up at the train’s ceiling, holding tears back.
The train, still full of people, is suddenly empty.
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Anastasiia Mozghova is a student at the American University in Bulgaria, majoring in Journalism and Mass Communication. She thanks the defenders of Ukrainian independence and wishes all of them could come back to their families soon.
