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I know that sometimes the things we carry become too much for us. We are burned down, but somehow we have to pick ourselves up and keep going

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Going
Burned
Much
Pick
Somehow
Things
Picks
Carry
Keep
Become
Sometimes

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Daughters are supposed to be friends to their mothers in their old age.
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Courage, Alexander..... Courage, Tatiana
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We’ll meet again in Lvov, my love and I…” Tatiana hums, eating her ice cream, in our Leningrad, in jasmine June, near Fontanka, the Neva, the Summer Garden, where we are forever young.
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I tend to be a great optimist when it comes to the United States and the American way of life, I think precisely because I wasn't born into it.
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Good-bye, my moonsong and my breath, my white nights and golden days, my fresh water and my fire. Good-bye, and may you find a better life, find comfort again and your breathless smile, and when your beloved face lights up once more at the Western sunrise, be sure what I felt for you was not in vain. Good-bye and have faith, my Tatiana.
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Dear God, Tatiana prayed in bed that night, turning to the wall and pulling the white sheet and the thin brown blanket over herself. If You are there somewhere, please teach me how to hide what I never knew how to show.
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And then, because she was Tatiana and because she couldn’t help herself, and because he wouldn’t have it any other way, she ran to him and was in his arms.
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Thank you, she whispered, for keeping yourself alive, soldier. You're welcome, he whispered back.
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He stared at her fists and at her face and said with upset incredulity, You promised me you would forgive me- Forgive you,Tatiana hissed through her teeth, tears streaming down her face, for your brave and indifferent face, Alexander! She groaned in pain. Not for your brave and indifferent heart.
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Tania, last time in Morozovo, I let you go, but not this time. This time we live together or we die together.
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When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street.
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I don't want this life to end, said Alexander. The good, the bad, the everything, the very old, to ever end.
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They had no past. They had no future. They just were.
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Tania, there is so much still ahead of you. Be patient with life
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But on that sunlit Sunday, Alexander knew nothing, thought nothing, imagined nothing. He forgot Dimitri and war and the Soviet Union and escape plans, and even America, and crossed the street for Tatiana Metanova.
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You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.
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We thought the hard part was over—but we were wrong. Living is the hardest part. Figuring out how to live your life when you’re all busted up inside and out—there is nothing harder.
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In Alexander's life there was one thread that could not be broken by death, by distance, by time, by war. Could not be broken. As long as I am in the world, she said with her breath and her body, as long as I am, you are permanent, soldier.
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Not bombs nor my broken heart can take away from me walking barefoot with you in jasmine June through the Field of Mars.
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