To the editor: As a Ukrainian who lives in Los Angeles, he would like this letter to never have to be written.
In February 2022, when Russia had begun its large -scale assault on the existence of Ukraine, I wrote a letter to the Times about “Shchedryk” (known as “Carol of the Bells” in much of the world) that chose the song of the Ukrainian composer Mykola Leonntovych as not only the crying of my omission for the aid, but also a characon of hope. I think of that version of myself, and I can't interact with her.
Today, my smart watch notifies me of the alerts of air attacks in the cities where my loved ones live. The horrible “ping” sends me to search Google to discover what happened. Are these “righteous” drones, or is it a ballistic missile attack? If it is the first, are Kinzhal or Iskander missiles?
My 2025 knows so many military terms, but I am missing simple words to talk about feelings, to answer the question: “How have you been?” of non -Ukrainian.
But since you asked, I'm fine. It's just that my cousin is currently on the front line. I call it “small.” It is two years younger than me, but gathered a will several months ago. The little one has will.
A few days ago, he sent me a text message after not answering for a month. That was a good day.
Shortly after knowing about Little One, there was a great attack on Odesa. My other cousin and his 2 -year -old daughter live there. He is an engineer who works for the local gas company. He replied that they were fine.
But the New Year's Eve was on the street during an attack on Odesa. A crime missile temporarily passed literally on his head. His 14 -year -old neighbor was killed.
There is always someone in my homeland who is dying. I feel that I do not deserve to ask me: “How are you?”
But to give people the courtesy of an answer, I am armed with devastating photos on my phone. I still lack words. How do I explain to the non -Ukrainians that this will really be the last war, the last peaceful days on Earth if there is no justice for Ukraine?
I wish I could bring you the hope of “Shchedryk.” But this time, all I have are notifications of aerial alerts.
Victoria Pidlisetska, Los Angeles
