Day 13 – Something I miss

Dear Diary,

It is DAY 13 of my writing challenge to myself. And today I picked out a very emotional, if not tear-jerking topic – SOMETHING I MISS.

I am an adult (it sucks). I have moved a lot. Well, I moved countries and continents. I lost a lot of people along the way. So, I guess I have loads and loads of missing to do. Here is a snippet, just a snippet

I miss my home

A home being a house I was born in. It is a place where I spent my best careless and carefree years, where I fell in love and where I got my heart broken too.

It is a place with a huge yard and garden. It is where you know everybody. It is where neighbours come out in summer nights to drink tea and discuss news. It is where everything is yours and about you.

I miss my friends

I grew up in ‘yard system’ where people lived in high-rise apartments and there were tens if not hundreds of kids living in the same house and going to the same school. I had so many friends when I was a kid.

We run around in summer and during every other school holidays. We got into troubles. We explored the world and its possibilities. We fought and made up.

It’s a whole culture of ‘yard’ friends. It’s a whole separate universe.

We are all grown up now. Some of us have grandkids by now. We live continents apart. I still miss them all.

Moreover, I miss the fact that my daughter have not had a chance to have ‘yard’ friends.


I miss the being able to stand on my bed and hug mum’s head

What I was a little girl, I loved standing on my bed before bedtime and hug mum’s head. I was tiny. Mum’s head was the closest and the best part I could reach. I would hug her and call her sweet names.

Now I can hug mum and call her ‘my little girl’ just because I can.

My Mum and me (baby)

I miss the smell of bread

Growing up I lived across the road from the big industrial bakery “Druva”. They baked the yummiest white bread and rolls. The smell in the air was something. But better than that was the smell of freshly bake bread that I used to buy at the factory’s door.

I loved it. It associates with summers at gran’s house with being ‘old enough’ to walk to the shops. It associates with childhood and the best times ever.


I miss the feeling of spring

Be it in Riga or Saint Petersburg or even Tiraspol, the feeling of spring is something Australians will never understand. It is exquisite.

It is in the air. It is on the ground. It is in the young sticky leaves and first flowers. It is in the melting snow and breathing earth. It is in cool sunshine and freezing shadows. It is in shedding winter coats and uncovered heads.


I miss the magic of New Year

I think this one hurts the most because it is gone, completely.

There is no magic left.

First, I thought the magic is gone because we moved to Australia and New Year is in the heat of summer. Then, I thought it is gone because people around me do not celebrate New Year.

No, the magic is gone. It is gone in Russia as well as in Australia. New Year has become a commercial enterprise full of excesses.

When we did not have much we had it all. The biggest New Year tree and Grandfather Frost, mandarins and Russian salad, familiar faces on TV and presents under the tree.

I cannot explain the magic of New Year. I can only remember it… and miss it.

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