"Birthday in Kyiv" by Sophia Tyutyunnyk

Photo by Laura Louise Grimsley on Unsplash

Цирк (Tsyrk). I was reading the word again. A smile slid from ear to ear on my face. This moment was something I’d wanted since the minute we’d stepped onto that bus. I was going to the Giant Fountains. Boulevard Shevchenko was in the distance, but nothing was standing between me and the building. It was a gray gem, shining like a diamond in the evening sun - tall, and majestic, rising from the ground in the middle of Peremoghi Square with importance. Enormous columns were standing at the entrance. The sharp tip coming out of the roof stabbed the sky as if saying, “I am a part of the clouds, too.” The stairs felt as if they were trying to invite me in. Of course, the banner caused real excitement. “Show Veletenskih Fontaniv.” My dream was coming true. I looked eagerly at my parents, who both gave me reassuring smiles as I bounded up the stairs of the building. 

*** 

We were waiting for the marshrutka to take us to the hospital. My parents were tense as ever. I didn’t like going to visit Babushka Natasha. Everyone was always so sad, and the doctor was always mean to me. She never let me go into the same room that Babushka was in. Dad said the doctor did this because she didn’t want me to see that great-grandma was dying. I knew that Babushka would not lose to cancer. She was strong. The only okay thing about the hospital was I had a friend, Anna, whose Mom was one of the nurses taking care of my great-grandmother. But fall break was ending, and soon she would have to go to school. 

What I would give to go to school. Or have a real friend. My real friends were across the ocean. My school was across the ocean. My home was across the ocean. All because my parents were aliens. Shouldn’t the government be happy that we were trying to become legal citizens? Even if you followed the rules, you still might be put into administrative processing. 

I knew that this visit would be the same as all the others. As the bus got closer to that horrible hospital, a shimmer in the distance caught my eye. I looked to my right and saw a building that looked like it came from Mars. Kyiv was full of interesting architecture, but this was different. 

“Mama, what’s this?” I asked.

“It’s the circus,” Mom said. 

“Circus?” I stared at the building wide-eyed. “You mean where they have all the tightrope walkers, clowns, and ringmasters?” 

“Yes.” 

“I want to go.” 

“We’ll see,” Mom answered, looking at the building with soft eyes. 

*** 

The windows of the circus seemed to have felt the laughter of thousands. The floors had been stepped upon by millions of happy feet from giggling kids and grinning parents. I was contributing to that million. I skipped along the hall to find the door number we needed to go through to find our seats by the ring. 

We walked through the aisles and settled ourselves in our spots. I was giddy with excitement. The stage burst with light. The ringmaster jollily marched into the show ring. 

“Hi everybody!” he said, “Welcome to the show!” 

The floor abruptly broke into pieces. Water welled into the missing spots on the ground. Fountains lit up by neon lights erupted. High stools were placed under these fountains. Like dandelion seeds, girls in pink skirts floated down daintily from the ceiling. Music played. The girls danced like puppeteers were controlling their limbs. Occasionally, they would float up into the air, as delicate as ever. The floor was spinning in a slow circle, showcasing every single one of the dancers. There was one male in the middle of the floor, on the highest stool, dancing as well. He never moved from the center, but his choreography was still as impressive as the others. 

I thought it couldn’t get much better. Of course, I was wrong. As an animal lover, I was overjoyed when I saw they had dogs and cats at the circus; however, I had never seen them arrive in a blimp before. Once the blimp landed, the animals came out and started to push each other around in strollers. Next, they would start to climb tall poles and dance. I had never seen animals so obedient. Moments later, the dogs were jumping through rings of fire! My smile couldn’t get any wider. 

*** 

A couple of hours later, Mom, Dad, and I stepped into the cold night air. We walked towards the bus stop, waiting for the marshrutka to come.

“You ready to go home?” Mom asked. 

This isn’t my home. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you have a good time?” 

“It was the best birthday present ever.” I turned to smile at my parents. 

“Aren’t the Ukrainian people so talented?” Mom stared into space, with a sad smile. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, they are.” 

The marshrutka crawled into the same stop I was standing at just three weeks ago when I got my first look at the circus building. We settled ourselves into the bus seats, and I stared through the window at the darkness outside. 

A few months earlier, I wouldn’t have known what it’s like to step into a foreign country. I wouldn’t have known what administrative processing was. I wouldn’t have to feel so homesick and helpless knowing that I’m stuck here because of immigration, with a dying grandmother, and parents that aren’t sure about the future. This feeling struck anger in my veins. But, if my parents’ visas got approved earlier, I wouldn’t have known what a circus was like. I wouldn’t know what it would be like to turn ten years old in a different country. I wouldn’t know that even standing on another continent, the stars in Kyiv are as bright as in Orono, and maybe, a person could have two homes in two different parts of the world.

Sophia Tyutyunnyk, fourteen years old, is from Orono, a small town in central Maine. When not writing, Sophia can be found in a pool with her swim team, on a soccer field, listening to her favorite Ukrainian tunes, or in her room with a good book. Sophia loves to write, and she is eager to tell about her experiences. Being a child of immigrants from Ukraine, Sophia was brought up in a bilingual and multicultural family. Born in the US, Sophia witnessed her family's immigration struggles first hand, enduring with her parents and her older sister every step of the way. What motivated Sophia to write her memoir "Birthday in Kyiv" was her desire to describe a happy memory of an event that took place on her birthday that contrasted her overall stressful ninety-day exile in Kyiv. Ukraine holds a very special place in Sophia's heart, and to be able to tell stories about her family's country, illuminate its cultural richness, Sophia feels compelled to project that admiration to the world.