If Stina closed her eyes and tried really hard, she could taste her mom’s blueberry pancakes. It took extra effort to get the flavors of the butter and maple syrup. She was still working on the textures.
She jumped as a nearby explosion rocked the remains of the building in which the remnants of her family had sheltered. She counted to a hundred and when no more shells landed, shifted the part of her body not trapped under rubble
Rescue would come. It had to. Don’t think. DON’T THINK. Pancakes. Blueberries. Butter. Syrup. Slowly she reached for their comforting flavors.
I made blueberry pancakes for breakfast Easter morning. Today Substack sent an email full of cooking newsletters. Some weird alchemy in my brain must have mixed these with the anxiety I continue to feel for the civilians targeted by Russian attacks in Ukraine. This story is the result of that alchemy.
You can help the people of Ukraine by donating to a recognized charity, but please be careful. Some sites are scams. I know the Canadian Red Cross is trustworthy. If you can’t give, please share this story on social media.
My mouth is watering for the pancakes, as I feel the mix of fear and hope.
I can almost feel her fear. Also, a reminder of the important things in life... not only what is happening in the world but also what we have in our hearts to cling to at times of distress. Good story, Dascha.