I started this slice of life story a few years ago, but with one crisis after another in the last couple of rather stressful years, I never had the inclination to complete it and post it. Of course I had plenty of time to write with all of our stay at home pandemic mandates and social distancing requirements. I guess my heart just wasn’t into it.
I think that the situation for the people of Ukraine has inspired me to once again continue writing about my Ukrainian memories. It is a very scary and sad time for many in Ukraine. I hope that reading my Ukrainian ancestor’s stories, my childhood recollections, photos and trying out some of the Ukrainian recipes will provide a few moments of distraction, relief and new hope.
Baba’s House
It was a hot muggy afternoon when my mom and I went to visit Baba one Summer day. I was six years old at this time. I loved going with mom to Baba’s. There was always something special that happened whenever we went for a visit. Though not that exciting, it was a day that would stay with me.
First of all, let me tell you about Baba’s yard. I recall Baba’s white picket fence around her house. It really wasn’t much of a fence anymore as there were many missing slats. The paint was chipped and peeling off. One just had to look at it to see that with just one puff of a wind, it would topple over.
In her front yard, Baba had a water pump. Even though our small town had installed running water, Baba still got her water from the well every day. I remember the shrill squeaking sound it made whenever you pumped the handle up and down.
I used to love coming over and offering to get a pail of water for her. We never had a pump at our house. We only had a well that dad used. He would take off the wooden cover and drop a bucket down into the well. He had a rope to pull up that pail of water. No one except dad was allowed to use it. Children especially were not allowed to do this for fear of falling in. Yes, the well was just one big hole in the ground with a homemade wooden lid on top. If anyone or anything fell in, they would would never get out and they would drown.
Being told that did put fear into any young child to stay away from the well. I often worried about our cats or dogs falling in. I do not think that ever happened. Well, at least no one told this to me when I was a young child of six years.
As you can see from the photo, Baba’s house was small. It only had five rooms in total. There was one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, a little storage room and a living room. What else was needed when you only had one Baba living in it? Little did I know back then that years before, my Baba and Gido had three kids living in that same house as well.
On this particular hot Summer day, mom and I walked over and we found Baba sitting at her kitchen table cutting carrots and beets into tiny slivers. Yes, you guessed right! Baba was making some borscht for herself. While my mom and Baba talked, I watched her hands intently and was amazed at how small she sliced up those vegetables. At our own house, we too chopped and diced our vegetables, but not anywhere near as how tiny Baba chopped her vegetables. She was quick and so accurate. It obviously impressed me back then, because whenever I make Ukrainian borscht today, I am taken right back to her small kitchen so many years ago.
Looking back at photos of Baba’s house and remembering that Summer day, I wonder if Baba used to dice her vegetables so small and carefully because it was a quiet and relaxing time for her. Perhaps for Baba, this was her way of making sense of her world back then.
If she were here today?
I think I’ll go find some vegetables to chop.
Слава Україна !
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