A moment of humanity on the street
The sun was low over the street when we stopped at the checkpoint. The Ukrainian soldiers beckoned us over, their uniforms dusty and their gazes serious. We had to wait longer than expected. The minutes ticked by as they checked our papers and asked us where we were headed. Then came the clear message: You can't go any further, you have to go back.
My heart grew heavy. Not because of the turnaround, but because of the package that was still in the trunk. A small bundle full of hope that my relatives in Odessa had packed for us. As I held it in my hands, I felt my aunt's concern who had put it together. A final greeting, a piece of home amidst all the chaos.
One of the soldiers noticed how I was holding the package. Maybe it was my look or simply the exhaustion of the war that made him thoughtful. He nodded at me briefly without a word. No big gesture, just a silent understanding. Take it with you. His eyes revealed more than words ever could.
As we set off on the way back, the package lay safely on my lap. It was more than just a bundle of things. It was a sign that even in the midst of rules and controls, even when the world around us seems to be falling apart, moments of humanity still exist. And sometimes it's exactly these small things that remind us to keep going.
