That first night, people came to our house with gifts. There was all sorts of food — good rye bread and holubtsi and sausage. Marusia was given jars of pickled beets, strawberry jam and honey, as well as eggs and a sack of flour. Someone brought a bolt of light blue cloth and Ivan was given a bottle of vodka. The priest gave me a prayer book, and an English lady with a mole on her cheek gave me a package of crayons. Just as most people were leaving, a couple arrived with an angry looking dark-haired boy in tow. “This is Mychailo,” the woman said to me, pushing the boy forward. “He’s a student at Central School.”
His parents went into the house, leaving Mychailo with me in our yard. “What’s Central School?” I asked him.
“You’ll be going there in September,” he said. “You’ll hate it.”
“Why?”
“They’ll make fun of you because you’re not Canadian.”
“Do they make fun of you?” I asked.
“Not anymore,” he said, balling his hands into fists. “I beat them up if they do.”
It didn’t seem like something that would work for me. Maybe Mychailo would beat people up for me if we became friends?
After everyone left, Ivan said, “I have another surprise for you.” He took my hand and walked me to the bushes that acted as a fence between our yard and our neighbour’s. “Did you notice what these are?” he asked.
There were no flowers — the bushes looked like they had just been planted — but I recognized the shape of the leaves. “Lilacs!” I said.
“I planted them for you,” he said. “They’ll bloom next spring and you’ll wake up every morning to their scent.”
I was so overcome that I could barely croak out a thank you.
“This is your home, Nadia,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “We want you to be happy here.”
We dragged out the mattresses and slept in the backyard under the stars. The cool breeze soothed me and I loved being in the open. The sound of chirping in the night startled me at first, but Ivan explained that it was frogs singing, even finding a small tree frog to show me. We had frogs back home but I couldn’t remember the last time I saw one. A frog’s song is so very different from the sounds of land mines, artillery fire, bombs. How many nights had I tried to sleep despite all those sounds, all through the war years? And the years in the camp, even without the din of war, we had lived so crowded in with other DPs that all I could hear were snores and grunts and sobs.
As I lay there, looking up at the stars and listening to the frogs, I began to relax — just a little. Maybe everything would be fine. I took deep breaths of the cool evening air and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Marusia tossed and turned a little bit. She faced me and began to sing the lullaby I had known all my life.
Kolyson’ko, kolyson’ko
Kolyshy nam dytynon’ku
A shchob spalo, ne plakalo
A shchob roslo, ne bolilo
Ni holovka, ni vse tilo
I could feel the fear leave my body as I listened to the words. I was lulled by the cosiness of the mattress and the bedding and being beside the two people who so far had kept me safe.
I fell asleep feeling loved and secure.
I am surrounded by the people whom I love most, snuggled together under a down comforter in a cosy bedroom. Suddenly there is a banging at the door. I try to wake the people beside me but they have melted away. I am alone. My heart pounds. The door bursts open, but I cannot see who it is.
I woke with my arms flailing, shouting, “Leave me alone!” Strong hands pulled me to a sitting position. I opened my eyes. I was in Brantford, in my own backyard. Marusia sat beside me. I was safe. But even in the darkness I could see the worry on her brow. Ivan was there too, kneeling at my other side.
“Were you having a nightmare?” Marusia asked.
It had seemed so real, but yes, it must have been a nightmare. I nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Marusia snuggled up close to me on the mattress and whispered the lullaby into my ear in a low sweet voice. The words soothed me a little bit and I could feel my heart settle down.
I wanted to sleep but I didn’t want to dream again. Once my breathing slowed, it was easy to convince Marusia that I was all right. She and Ivan needed their sleep.
Marusia settled back on her mattress. I stayed awake, listening to the frogs and the rhythm of Ivan’s snores. When I knew that Marusia was also deep in sleep, I sat back up and breathed in some cool night air to try to clear my thoughts. Why did I have that dream? Who was pounding at the door?
I clasped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth, soothing myself like someone had once soothed me. I chanted the lullaby under my breath. The words made me feel safe and loved. I reached back into my memory, to the last time I had felt completely safe. I remembered a time before the camp. I had a bedroom all to myself then, a room with high ceilings and big windows. I had plenty to eat and good clothing to wear.
But had I felt safe? No. Who could feel safe in the middle of a war?