Freedom for me is when I can choose. When I can decide. But I am young, I don’t know what it means to be forced to do something. I don’t understand how it feels. Some people risked their lives. Some people didn’t survive when the Russians came. A lot of people struggled, but we fought, we resist, we didn’t give up.
Once I came back home, angry and frustrated beyond any reason. Me and my mother talked about what happened. But I didn’t want to talk. She just spoke, spoke and spoke. But I was too angry to listen. I wanted to just slam the door, but I knew if I did that she would get angry. She spoke something about Soviet years, how it was difficult to live, how it was sad and dangerous to resist. I remember just thinking: “when will she stop talking about those stupid things”. But I just sat there staring in the floor. I didn’t understand why she was talking about that. She talked for an half an hour and I heard this and it stayed for the rest of my life: “Matt everybody and everything is important, the past, the future, the details are important too. Matt, future- we can’t see, past- we can’t forget, freedom is great, but you don’t know what it’s like to live without freedom”.
I didn’t understand what it meant, but I finally do,
PS This story is made up