Friends, I have an unexpected request.
Unexpected even for me.
As you know, we and our friends and readers assist the people of Donbass.
During these past years we’ve done much, including taking people to Russia for treatment.
Recently I was asked to help, as someone with ties to benevolent activities.
I was somewhat taken aback, since the matter concerned a young boy from Kiev.
Actually, I was stunned, because I have no idea how aid organizations function in Ukraine, and moreover me writing about this could hurt the boy’s family. But then I realized how absurd this situation was. Kids are beyond politics, and I hope that people from various points of view will comprehend that.
These are not merely kids. They are all foster children who live with families in Lugansk and who are listed with the city aid center. You and I helped the center make a holiday for them. Celebrate with us)))
I love such posts–about kids, smiles, joy, and gifts. It’s especially fun when there is some part of us in that. You. Me.
After taking part in the competition, 40 kids were taken to a fun park with a ropes course, after which they got ice cream and candy.
Ice cream and candy provoked indescribable enthusiasm.
Many of these kids’ parents cannot right now, at a time like this, afford to even buy them ice cream.
Thanks to everyone who sent money for this activity which was part of the Day of Family, Love, and Faith celebrations.
Hurrah, my friends!)))
Zhenya said, or rather wrote, “The kids got a holiday like NO OTHER.”
And you did that)
Thanks for being there))
When I was 9, my brother brought me to Gurzuf’s Spasalka pier. When a steamer approached the shore, it was immediately mobbed by the locals. The captain was yelling from the bridge, the vacationers were muttering in awe on the pier, while the parents of younger “participants” were shaking their fists from the shore.
I couldn’t reach either the anchor or the ladder.
–Grab a leg.
The brother shouted when the propellers were already spinning, so I grabbed his leg. I was seriously frightened but I couldn’t let go.
Other kids have grabbed my legs, thus creating a long chain.
–Young lady, are those your kids?
–What kids? Where?
And I take off running through the gardens.
There is a certain type of woman in the world who considers it her duty to be horrified by barefoot kids in the streets, or kids swimming in the sea during a storm.
A shark will come and get you!
Sasha has a mom. Katya has a mom.
Dasha and her brother Seryozha have one as well.
I remember their mom very well. She was from Pervomaysk. They were left homeless after one of the bombardments.
The children have been in the center since January and their mom hasn’t come to visit even once.
All of the kids in the shelters, dorms, and rehab centers have parents. But, as terrible and sad as this is, few of these parents need kids right now.
These are the kids of the Spas Rehabilitation Center in Stakhanov.
The 10-year-old Olya gave us this notebook with her poems at a Pervomaysk bomb shelter, where we deliver humanitarian aid. She’s been living there for 7 months already. Please read her poems. Look at her drawings.
And pass them on to others.