RETURN TO POLTAVA

 Day 161, Poltava (2022)

The time had come when she had to report back to her unit. He was staying behind, holding down the fort at home, his right leg still recovering after being shattered in March. He was pretty proud of his hobbling abilities with a cane. They embraced hard at the end of the drive. Mila had run off in tears to the back fields when her mother broke the news. 

Finally, she gently pushed away, head down, and began walking the half mile to the pick-up point near town. He just stood there, watching the back of her head, hair in a bun topped with an olive green beret, rising above the straps of her weapon. He was close to tears when she quickly whirled around, still walking backward, and placed her hand on her heart, looking at him intently, eyes welling up, before turning back. He smiled and waved. 

This was all seen by Mila, who had returned from the fields and come around the side of the house. "For now at least," she thought, "I still have two parents and this is all that matters." Her father's smile broadened as she walked up and gave him a hug. Together, arm in arm, they watched their mother/wife disappearing around the bend by the field of sunflowers.

Day 1658 (August 2026)

Mila hadn't returned to her childhood home in a couple of years. She had joined a local drone battalion when she was 18 after both of her parents were killed in action. She had been wounded and chose to do her final convalescence there. Little had changed with the house as Mila had boarded it up when she was first deployed. Their fields were all overgrown now although when she reached the familiar bend in the road near the house, she saw that sunflowers were still being cultivated. She stopped the car as she was filled with memories. It was a quiet day, a lull in the recent relentless drone attacks by the Russians. She reflected on the cost of this awful war for her people: 125,000-150,000 KIA with triple those numbers in wounded. Yet they have held and inflicted massive casualties on the Russians but Mila wondered for how long? The Americans had deserted them and the rest of the world, with their own internal issues, are now dithering. What a waste, she thought. All because of one man, one terrible man who had no regard for the lives of others. All for his personal, delusional dream of the renewed Soviet empire.

Her ruminations were interrupted by a the sound of birds. A flock of goldfinches has flown into the sunflowers for a snack. She remembered them-beautiful markings and sweet calls. She sat and watched as her mind shifted and began to relax. Happy memories of her folks and home flowed into her for the first time in years. She watched as a mating pair of finches fed each other and she responded with a quiet awwww. After a few moments, feeling better, stronger, she started the car to drive the final yards to her home. There was work to do: get better, get back into the war and help end it. As the car began to move, she glanced out her window and saw a goldfinch flying next parallel. The finch looked back at her for a few beats as if to say best of luck to you before wheeling away to join its friends.