How I was leaving my home. Day 2
February 25, 2022
- Hello. There should be two rooms booked for us under my name.
We arrived at the Sputnik Hotel in Lviv at 8 AM. It was calm and quiet there. If it weren't for the "Bomb Shelter" sign on the wall, one might have thought there was no war at all.
We were given two wonderful rooms. We went up to the third floor with our suitcases and collapsed onto the beds.
Then we went to breakfast.
It was around 10 AM, and there weren't many people at the restaurant. A couple sat at the next table, loudly discussing how they had been denied entry at the Ukrainian border for unknown reasons. They spoke loudly, as if they wanted to be heard and seen. I didn't pay much attention, although, of course, I was very curious about the topic of border crossings.
But I thought - What's the point of these conversations and opinions? I'll go wherever I need to, no matter what.
We had breakfast and returned to our rooms. The children, overexcited from the long night in the car, didn't want to sleep. They fought and cried.
At that time in Lviv, I didn't know that my children, my mother, and I would spend the next 5 days and nights in the car, and that this would become the most difficult journey of my life. The road to survival, in the truest sense.
But I somehow sensed this and internally tried to prepare myself. I decided we would spend the night in Lviv, and in the morning, we would head for the Polish border. I didn't know exactly where. Everyone was saying different things, but it was clear that there were traffic jams at all the borders.
I tried to sleep, but the hum of the engine kept ringing in my ears, and there was a gritty feeling in my eyes. I took a sedative, but it didn’t work.
I just lay in my room with the curtains closed. My brain no longer needed to focus on the road, and my emotions began to surface. I wanted to switch off, to relax. Slowly but steadily, and accompanied by a dull, lingering pain, thoughts of my apartment began to overwhelm me.
I bought an apartment in Boryspil three years ago. Omitting the details of how difficult it was, I want to say that it wasn’t just an apartment for me — it was my home.
I grew up in the South of Ukraine, in Melitopol, a military town. My grandfather was a military man and a WWII veteran. The sound of airplanes is the most familiar sound to me, and the sight of military personnel always brought a sense of security.
I hadn’t planned on buying an apartment in Boryspil. Living in Kyiv was very comfortable. But Universe knows better and understands what you truly need. When I went to see the apartment, I fell in love with this modest one-bedroom place at first sight and realised that I had come back home to my childhood.
Month after month, I furnished it with love and care. Three New Years spent in this apartment were the best in my life… A large library, a closet full of stylish jackets, jeans, and shoes that I adored. A small collection of perfumes, the last one being Chanel Chance, which I bought for myself as a gift for starting my job at iDeals.
I didn’t take any of that.
Over the past year, during my career changes and reassessment of my professional path, I moved all my work processes online and created my ideal workspace on my large loggia.
That workspace is what hurts me the most to remember.
The company I work for covered the cost of creating a comfortable home office. When I found this out, I immediately bought myself a desk with a removable top. It had been a dream of mine, as I, being a trainer and speaker, used to work standing up in front of audiences. Now, I could work standing, but from my balcony. It was amazing. A week before the invasion, I bought a huge blogging lamp with perfect lighting, planning several events and moderation. My home office was fully set up.
I was so happy.
During my time in Boryspil, I fell in love with the city and its people. You know the feeling when you move to a new place and slowly start meeting new acquaintances and friends. Waiters at restaurants knew that I drank coffee without sugar and always brought coloring books because I was always with kids.
Cashiers would ask how my children were doing, and in the Viber group for our neighbors, there were always messages about someone forgetting to turn off their headlights, reminding others that their car battery might die.
In Boryspil, we lost our scooter several times, and it was always returned to us, not to mention the numerous hats and toys that had spent the night with the security guards at Fora* or Silpo* — everything was always returned.
In the courtyard of our building lived a local guard dog, a serious and responsible one named Barmaley. He would bark at strangers but wag his tail for the regulars. He was loved and cared for by the whole neighborhood.
I hope he’s okay now**.
I knew the cleaners, pharmacy staff, waiters, and owners of local restaurants and co-working spaces, the best manicurists, and pastry chefs...
I miss it all dearly, but at the moment, I can't even begin to deal with it.
By the evening of February 25th, many foreigners had arrived at the hotel — mostly Indians and Koreans. They walked along the corridors, loudly discussing border crossing conditions, while I packed my things in my room and mentally gathered strength for the next part of the journey.
At 5 AM on February 26th the sharp, loud sound of the air raid siren jolted me out of my half-conscious state. I went down to the reception, and they told us to go to the bomb shelter.
Two hours later, we left for the Polish border.
The third day of our journey had begun.
To be continued...
*Ukrainian supermarket chains.
** When I was in Ukraine in 2024, I found out that Barmaley had died after a night of heavy shelling. Most likely, the poor dog had a heart attack from sheer fear.