6 February 2021

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— You know, I don’t want a wedding. I just want a quiet evening with our parents, just us.

— Me too.

— And then we’ll travel somewhere, just the two of us.

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You came with your mum the day before the ceremony, and the next morning, an hour before it began, we rushed to a stock store to buy you new kicks. You wore the suit you’d already worn to a few friends’ weddings, and I had on a lavender dress by the Ukrainian brand Vovk, with my old boots that I rarely wore and which didn’t really match the dress. But we didn’t care. We were excited and happy that the day had finally come. Instead of a café or restaurant, we had the kitchen in our house. Instead of a wedding cake there was shashlik and lula-kebab that you and Dad grilled in the attic. Instead of hiring a photographer, I showed Dad which buttons to press on my camera, and those turned out to be the best photos, because we looked so happy, like children.

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— I want a photo outside, in the snow. Shall we?

— Let’s go.

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All day long we kept looking at the rings on our fingers, smiling from ear to ear.

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— What have we done?

— You’re telling me. It’ll be fun.

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From Anastasiia Kilar’s book MaiorchakMykola. ‘God, Ukraine, Family’

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