ukrainian secrets

Yesterday my host mom and sister sat me down (ok, I was already sitting) and told me something that had obviously been bothering them for some time now. I listened, worried that I had somehow personally offended them with the amount of time I spend brushing my hair, my hopefully polite rejection of the endless supply of liver, or the number of chocolate bars I keep stashed in my room. I was scared of what was going to happen. Was this end of our harmonious relationship?

Their concern was this: I wear pants too often, and by doing so I will not attract the young men who could be potential suitors. They said I was beautiful and needed to show that more often by wearing skirts.

I sat there, shocked.

And then I realized, "They're right! I hate pants anyway!"

So now I'm here, sitting in my skirt, waiting for the next 3 hours to rush by so I can board an overnight train to northern Ukraine (poetry jam anyone?) to see some castles. I'm excited. Not only for the trip, but for the other "womanly secrets" my host mom said she had to share with me when the time was right. Should I be nervous? Because I'm not.

I am so content with my life right now it's unbelievable. Earlier this week I was walking home from a good day of teaching, listening to Selena telling me that I can be whatever I want, and was suddenly filled to the brim with happiness. You know, the kind of happiness that's like, "If someone touched me right now, they would hug a stranger."

I full on beamed at passing Ukrainians, some of whom hesitantly smiled back. I teared up when I saw a grandpa walking his granddaughter home from school, her bright pink backpack slung across his shoulders. A mom was showing her chubby little baby, all bundled up in snow clothes, the different colored leaves and some 13 year old boys were flirting with some 13 year old girls in the park.

I loved them all.
I'm so glad I'm here. Wearing a skirt and attracting the right kind of boy.

peace and buckwheat

rrw