I was born in Winnipeg at Saint Vital Hospital, and soon after my birth, I was on a plane headed to Ukraine, specifically to Kherson. My entire family lives in Kherson, so many relatives welcomed me as I returned from Canada. My dad’s family is originally from Yakutsk, Russia, and they moved to Kherson before the collapse of the Soviet Union while my mom’s family has always lived in Ukraine. Growing up in Ukraine was certainly an experience that, although I don’t fully remember, I miss dearly. Whenever I look at old photos of myself smiling in my babushka’s apartment with her cat Vaisya and her yellow parrot Yasha, a wave of nostalgia washes over me, making me long to return to the country I once called home. I remember baking and playing with my cousins Yana and Stasik, they were a big part of me growing up even though they were much older than me, they always took time to teach me things or to walk with me to markets, they are both still in Ukraine along with my aunt and uncle, Yana was a teacher, and Stasik is in the army fighting in the war. Many of my other relatives still live in Kherson because, in truth, they have nowhere else to go they do not have the opportunity to go anywhere else. Hearing from my relatives is both a happy and sad moment as they are safe, but we never know the next time they are in danger or hurt. My Babushka apartment recently got caught in an air strike, and the left side of the building was destroyed, the apartment that I grew up in, the apartment I had some of the happiest moments in as a child, is practically destroyed, thankfully, my babushka lives with us here in Victoria, but all the memories and items that apartment contained can never be replaced. The country I called home is being destroyed, and I will never be able to go back and see the great history and happy memories it once held, I can not go back to the same country I once knew; the children of Ukraine will never be able to experience the country their parents once new, and this is what saddens me most of all.