The sun is shining. For the first time in months, Kalyna feels its warmth on her cheeks in the shelter of two walls. It gives her a stab of relief, to know that spring is emerging out of the darkness. The two walls meet to form a right angle and the ground here is muddy and sticky as it becomes when it has frozen and thawed many times over. There are tyre tracks across the crumbling kerb, but the tiny triangle of earth has been protected by its walls.
She bends and pulls a trowel from her pocket. Its wooden handle is so worn and ingrained with dirt that the name of its manufacturers is no longer visible, but she can feel the familiar indentations of the lettering with her fingers.. The blade is bent backwards so when Kalyna pushes it into the soil she has to do so at an awkward angle. Still, it is better than nothing and she carefully starts to dig. As she does so, the soil releases a smell of organic richness that brings a calming of her senses. She works steadily across the triangle of earth, turning the top of the soil over and pulling out cold, sharp pieces of rubble that scratch her fingertips.
The area is so small it only takes half an hour. She stands up, taking a step back to admire this ragged, unassuming little patch of earth. She wants to make it safe. Looking around her, she finds plenty of stones and lifts some of them to create a small boundary along the edge of the tyre-tracked kerb.
Now, she takes a small envelope, folded over at the edges and soft with handling, from her pocket. She kneels, spreading her thin coat across her knees and feeling the stones dig into her shins. Then, with infinite care, she opens the envelope and taps it on her open hand. Sunflower seeds, plump and shining, fall into her palm. She counts out four and returns the rest to the envelope. To her they feel like gold nuggets. They were coaxed from a baker forty minutes’ walk away. She had told them she would eat them. Otherwise he wouldn’t have given away such a valuable ingredient.
Now, she uses her right hand to poke her finger, just past the knuckle, into the unpromising earth. Into the hole, she drops a seed and covers it over. The same for the remaining three seeds. Then, although she doesn’t believe there is any God any more, she says a prayer – or maybe a blessing – and wishes for them the miracle of germination.
Tonight, Kalyna and her neighbours will shelter in the shadowy stench of the underground shelters. After the unnerving silence, will come the the shattering of their town, reverberating through their feet and their heart-broken chests. They feel broken beyond repair and, although dying is easy, they will survive another night through sheer unbending determination, hoping for the day they will see Kalyna’s sunflowers radiant against a blue sky.
Mudwriter 