I remember leaving. Packing my bag at 05:00, scared as I had never been before, focused, but not able to stop the tears. Living for half a year with a bag that was only packed for two weeks.
I remember thinking that I never got to say goodbye, leaving in a rush, not knowing that I was going to leave.
I remember regretting not hugging my best friend tighter the last time we saw each other and I wished I had told my grandma that I loved her once more.
I remember not knowing if tomorrow would happen. Reassuring my friends that it would all be over soon. Soon. It’s been a damn long soon, hasn’t it?
I remember telling my parents that I loved them every single night before going to bed. Just in case I wouldn’t wake up. Just in case.
I remember staying in a city I had never been to before, where everything seemed okay. It felt wrong. Why did they behave as if nothing had happened? Everything fell apart; how could they stay so calm?
I remember crying a lot, missing my hometown and pushing away the thought that I might never come back.
But time passed. Pain settled. We got used to it. Apparently, humans can get used to anything.
I was even so lucky that I got to come back home one day. Everything was still there, just the way I left it. I returned to normal life; as normal as it can get with air raid alarms, missile attacks, and power outages of course.
I would sleep for four hours on an inflatable mattress in the corridor, waking up because of explosions.
I would get a coffee with a friend the next morning, on the terrace of a café, with the sound of electric generators in the background.
I would eat cold breakfast because there was no electricity to heat it up before running to classes.
I would wear five layers of clothes inside because there was no heating – hugging my mom for warmth while watching a downloaded movie in complete darkness.
I would have deep conversations about life with firefighters who worked at help points while they were making me tea in plastic cups to warm me up.
I remember leaving for university in Rotterdam. That time, I was actually prepared to leave. That day, I hugged my best friend extra tight and told everyone how much I loved them. I took photos of every single corner of our apartment: every poster on the wall, every book, every shampoo bottle, and every scratch on the floor. To remember. Just in case. What if I wouldn’t be able to come back? What if there was nothing to come back to?
It’s been almost four years now. Luckily, I still have somewhere to come back to.
I still take a photo of my room before leaving for the Netherlands every time I visit though.
Just in case.