Five good stories
Good stories for difficult times.
Every time I read the news, the world feels heavier than the day before. I started to experience moments of powerlessness and helplessness almost every day. I struggle with chronic depression, and while I learned how to control it with time, it can be very easily triggered. When it happens, it feels like a dark cloud overshadows everything and absorbs all light. I fall into a downward spiral for weeks and even months. As a way of resisting and bringing myself back, I started remembering and writing down the moments when I felt safe, loved, and happy. Our brains are programmed to focus only on the bad things as a survival mechanism from the past. When we intentionally bring our attention to the good things, even for a brief moment, it helps us restore the balance. In today’s newsletter, I want to share some of the good stories and memories from my life. I hope they will help you remember yours.
Morning sounds
Early morning. It is pitch dark and cold outside. I hear the distant sound of the freight train going past our town’s station. I woke before my alarm and lay quietly in bed, feeling warm and cozy under a big, fluffy blanket. I have an hour before I need to get up and go to school, but right now, I don’t have to go anywhere. From my bedroom, I see a warm strip of light and hear muffled radio sounds coming from the kitchen. The door is never closed completely, as a bathroom towel always dries on the top. I see Mom moving in the kitchen and hear the clanging of the pots, the kettle’s whistle, and the humming sound of the coffee grinder. I decide to stay in bed for a little more and don’t notice how I fall back asleep, lulled by the morning sounds.
A tiny porcelain cup
I am five, and it is the best day of my life because Grandma let me drink coffee. Mom should never find out about it, and I intend to keep this secret forever. Grandma has the prettiest porcelain set with people and flowers drawn on it. I love it a lot. I especially love the tiny cup she lets me drink from. It is the smallest cup I’ve ever seen, almost like from the toy kitchen set in my kindergarten. Only it is not plastic but made from expensive porcelain. Grandma brought it from Poland, together with beautiful dresses for me and my sister. I’ve never been to Poland, but it seems like a place that has lots of beautiful things. I imagine that I am a princess and sit very straight and hold my perfect tiny cup with two fingers. Grandma smiles and puts a crystal bowl with cookies and chocolate candies in front of me. Mom will pick me up soon, but I still have time to finish my coffee, try on Grandma's scarves and dresses, and smell perfume from every bottle on the vanity table.
Rainy day
It is a rainy Sunday, and Mom is ironing clothes in front of the TV. I am sitting on the couch with a drawing pad and colored pencil. I am drawing my cat, who is lying under the ironing board. The iron's steam fills the room, making it warm and cozy. I like the smell of ironed clothes and the sound of the rain outside. I watch the raindrops running down the window. The cat suddenly stands up and tries to lie on the pile of ironed clothes. She gets immediately chased away, and I decide to continue drawing her from memory. Mom stops ironing and looks closely at the TV screen as the emotional moment unfolds in the movie. I stop drawing and watch it, too. The rain keeps tapping on the windows.
Evening walk
The sun is setting in the forest, and the warm glow lights up the tall pine trees. We’ve just finished working in the garden and preparing to go home. Birds and crickets sing their evening songs, and the first mosquitoes appear in the air. We gather all our garden equipment and lock it in the old wooden shed. Mom asks me to harvest dill and green onions while she is picking flowers and arranging a bouquet for home. Buckets filled with black currants and small prickly cucumbers stand on the garden table. My siblings are ready to go home and asking Mom to hurry. She tells us to give her five more minutes, as she forgot to water some beds. We don’t have a well, and instead, collect rainwater in big rusty metal barrels. It is getting darker, and eventually, we hang the buckets with harvest on the bicycle and start to slowly walk home. Our road goes through the small forest and then turns to the broad street with houses and gardens. We eat toasted sunflower seeds and talk about different things: the nature around us, the neighbor’s gardens, rehearsing poems for school, and singing songs. It takes us about half an hour to reach the field behind which our town stands. We see the distant light in people’s apartments and feel the warm air coming from the ground – it is always warmer in the field than in the forest in the evening, as the sun heats the open terrain during the day. The air smells of grasses and soil. I look above and see the first stars in the sky. Mom points to the Ursa Major constellation and tells us that this is a big bear, and somewhere in the sky should be a small bear, her baby. I look at the stars and don’t see any resemblance with bears, but I still like it. The Big Bear shines brightly and guides us safely home.
Happiness
Mom is going shopping, and I tag along because I know that she is going to the department store. It is the main store in our little town where you can buy anything: from furniture to clothes, to the most delicious fresh pastries. The store is twenty minutes walk from our house, but on the way there, we always meet someone Mom knows, and they stand and talk forever.
When we finally reach the store, we first walk around the ground floor. It has a small department with books and stationery. We spend some time there, and in the end, Mom buys a few notebooks, pens for me and my siblings, and brushes for my art class. The smell of new notebooks is one of my favorites, aside from the smell of fresh pastries.
Then, we move further to the rugs, wallpapers, and dishware department. We browse the beautiful wallpapers and imagine how they will look in our house. I love dreaming that one day we will become rich and we will be able to buy everything we want to decorate our home. But for now, we can only look at it. Sometimes, Mom buys a few new plates or mugs. They usually have fruits and vegetables drawn on them, and I like how colorful they are.
Right across, there is a photo department where we print our photos. I think it is pure magic how you get beautiful pictures from a tiny dark roll of film. The guy who works there is Mom’s classmate, and she always stops by to talk to him. While they are talking, I love watching how the big printing machines work, and I am also allowed to look through the film viewer at someone else's photos. It is always fun, as I sometimes recognize people from the town. I tell Mom that when I grow up, I want to work in the photo department because I like looking at the photos and seeing what's happening in people’s lives. She laughs and tells me that I need to focus on getting good grades at school so I can go to the university and stop sticking my nose into someone else’s business. But then she asks what photos I saw, and I know she is also curious.
The store has big wooden stairs that lead to the upper floor. The stairs look just like in the Titanic movie, and I love imagining myself as Rose, who is going to dinner with Jack. There is a toy department on that floor, but even though I like toys, I don’t like going there. Mom’s distant relative works in that department, but she is not as friendly as the photo guy. She watches me closely while I’m browsing the toys as if I can steal or break something. She always tells Mom how sorry she feels for her, that she has so many children and so little help. I don’t understand why she says that, because we are happy and have a good life. She is older than Mom and has a constant look on her face as if something hurts. I think we should feel sorry for her, not the other way around.
On the way back, Mom stops at the bakery and buys a bag full of delicious pastries. My favorites are buns with poppy seeds and powdered sugar. The pastries smell so good that we can’t resist eating some on the way home. The department store has big showcase windows that are always beautifully decorated depending on the season. We walk by them, looking at the installations as we are in the art gallery.
Mom puts a kettle on when we get home, and my siblings and I gather in the kitchen to drink tea with pastries, listen to the radio, and talk. The dog sits under the table, hoping we will drop her something to eat. The cat is sleeping on the radiator by the window. It’s getting dark outside, and the sky has become my favorite dark blue color. The kitchen is warm and cozy. My sister shares something funny that happened at school, and we all laugh so much that our cheeks start to hurt. After tea, we stay in the kitchen to do homework while Mom is cooking dinner. As I am writing in my school notebook, I am thinking that the lady from the toy department doesn’t understand what happiness is because it is not money or expensive things, but sitting in the kitchen with your family.
I’d love to hear your good stories. What makes your heart feel warm and safe? What memory brings you comfort? Please share it in the comments.
Warmly,
Darya
Email: daryazorka@substack.com
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Those are such precious memories! Thank you for sharing them with us.
One of my favourite memories is of a forested area where i spent many holidays as a child. Some years we camped there, other times I was on a holiday camp for kids - those were mostly great fun, with outdoor activities, walks, hikes... There were many waterfalls in the area, and forest walks. I knew the place like the back of my hand. Alas, it is no more. When I was 16 or 17, many of the plantations of trees were felled for logging, and I lost all my friends. I tried visiting two waterfalls that day, and they were strangers. I no longer recognised where I was walking. It's been 26 years and only recently can I share that without anger or tears.
My other safe place, which still carries good memories, is of practicing the piano. I would practice for an hour every day before school. It became my own space, a place where my mind could wander. Therapeutic. And very much needed, especially as a teenager.
Thank you for sharing those stories Darya, it’s such a good life lesson to remember those things which gave and give us comfort and happiness. The very first thing that came to my mind was when my brother and I were small (though I am five years older than him so I can’t have been that small!), warm and cosy in freshly washed pyjamas in front of the fire with the alluring prospect of being allowed to toast our own marshmallows (very rare) or bread (more common). Feelings of absolute security and warmth and happiness. Also Friday afternoons with my grandfather after school from ages six to ten, playing cards, board games and being allowed a spider drink (usually Coke with a scoop of vanilla ice cream). Happy days!