Home Sweet Home...

Unknown

Thyme from
an old suitcase
smells
of the summertime
laughter
of children:
a pond on a hay-field
and concentric
circles
on the water
in flashes
of nostalgia.
Home—
it’s straight ahead—
it's nearby— see,
it’s here!
Thyme,
crushed
in my hands,
still keeps the scent
of that time...

Halyna Koshulap, November 15, 2025

By my parents’ pond I picked a small bunch of thyme and hid it in my suitcase. I did it deliberately, as a farewell, as I now understand, because truly that was the last time I saw my father. I found the thyme and wrote these lines, though in them there is more nostalgia for the time when my children were still little and we were young. Still, I never thought that my father would leave us just a couple of months later, and that I wouldn’t have the chance to say goodbye…