-Natasha-

     I can feel the cold winds of Russia and see the colorful domes of St. Basil's Cathedral. I can still see my birth mom's face. But all that is deep in my mind, carefully tucked away from what is happening now. A war.

     My birth mom was forced to put me up for adoption. The irony is I am a citizen of Ukraine now, but I was born in Russia and so was my birth mom. I can't help but pray every night that I will meet her again and get to know her better. But. Would that be called fraternizing with the enemy?

-Birth Mom-

     I was alone. My husband died two years ago, he left us some money but taking care of a 6-year-old was hard and the money ran out. Of course, then I lost my job, leaving me with no source of income and no college education. I had to give my beloved daughter up for adoption. A nice couple from Ukraine adopted her. And then Russia attacked Ukraine. I stay up many nights wondering if my darling Natasha is alright. Praying for her to live long. I can't help but wonder, is she still out there?

-Natasha-

     The move to France felt slow. Staring out of a train wasn't the best way to decrease boredom. But it was better than worrying about what lay ahead. 

     In our new apartment, the phone rang filling the air with worry. What if it was something bad, a death maybe? Mom walked to the phone and Dad talked with her to whoever was on the other side.

     "We are going out tomorrow," Mom whispered.

     "What happened? Are we meeting someone?" I asked, biting my lips.

     "Don't worry it's not bad," Dad responded. They both abruptly turned away. But what if it was?

-Birth Mom-

     She looked different. Her brown hair was longer, her bright blue eyes were paler, and she was taller, well over my height. She looked too much like me. I couldn't help but cringe. I had failed her. She should have probably looked more like her father.

     Wrapping her in a hug made me feel like I had done nothing wrong. The outside world seemed to fade away, only keeping us clear—me and her, mother and daughter. 

     But I felt as if my betrayal had gone too far. Maybe we could have been together. Maybe. 

-Natasha-

     Turns out the phone call was not bad. After ten years, I could see my birth mother again. I could hug her. I couldn't help but cry, tears stained my cheeks and hers. I wish we could just stay in that moment but our lives were different. She abandoned me, although I know she had done it for my own good. Living together might not work but we could still meet up. We still loved each other and would stay near each other. There would be no more boundaries. At last. 

 

     Love brings us together in the end, transcending all boundaries that humanity has created. This story is dedicated to everyone who comes from war-torn countries, stay strong.