‘Who will take care of the flowers?’ — why one 73-year-old retiree refuses to leave her front-line city
Seventy-three-year-old Lidiia Burlatska has lived through two wars in one city. In 2014, she did not leave Sloviansk during the occupation, and now she refuses to evacuate, even though the front line is approaching and is only 25 kilometers from her home. During three years of full-scale war, the retiree lost her son-in-law, learned to fall asleep to the sound of shelling, and stopped watching the news “because it hurts.” More than 50 years of living in Sloviansk have convinced her that there is no point in running away from what she has built her whole life. A Frontliner reporter spoke with a woman who lives where war has become part of everyday life, but where people still continue to hope.
Frontliner: What were you doing before the full-scale invasion?
Lidia Burlatska: I worked at a furniture factory as a forklift driver. It’s hard work for a woman, but I got used to it. My arms were strong, and I wasn’t afraid of any machinery. Then I retired. I thought I would finally get some rest, but no. My neighbor fell ill. She was very old and had no one to take care of her. So I went to see her every day to talk, cook borscht, and bring her medicine. People need attention, especially in old age. I spent a lot of time with my grandchildren. They are very smart and inquisitive. I also love crossword puzzles — they are my weakness. In the evenings, I sit and think about the words, training my brain. And our resort was a real source of pride. The lakes are salty and healing. The sanatoriums were so good that people came from all over Ukraine to be treated there. It was so peaceful.
(Editor’s note: Sloviansk’s spa district is called “the resort.” It sits on three salty lakes whose mineral water and mud have attracted health-seekers since the 1830s, and before the war several sanatoriums there welcomed visitors from across Ukraine.)
What is your typical day like?
I wake up early, at five or six in the morning. I’ve been used to getting up early all my life, ever since I was young. But now it varies. If there was shelling during the night, I get up even earlier. I can’t sleep when there’s noise. My heart pounds. The first thing I do is make tea. I can’t do without it. And I always look out the window to see what’s going on. Then I have breakfast, taking my time. I love the quiet in the morning. I go to my flower bed — it’s my ritual. My flowers are my beauties, I take care of them like children. My neighbors say I have the best flower bed in the neighborhood. Then I go to the market, if the trolleybus is running, of course. The routes are often canceled because of the shelling. At the market, I sometimes meet someone I know, and we talk about life and children. At home, I cook. It’s been difficult lately — my legs hurt, and I can’t stand for long. But I cook myself; I don’t like store-bought food. After lunch, I take a mandatory rest.
Sometimes I go to the resort where my sisters used to work. It’s beautiful there. But most of the area is destroyed now.
What keeps you here? Why didn’t you leave Sloviansk?
This is my home. You understand, not just a house – a home. Every corner here reminds me of my youth, how my children took their first steps, how my grandchildren ran around the yard. I can’t leave what I’ve built my whole life. How can I leave? My children say, “Mom, come live with us, it’s dangerous here.” And I tell them, “Where would I go at 73? Start all over again? No, it’s better here, at home. I already lived through the occupation in 2014. It was scary, but I survived. Back then, I also thought about leaving, but I couldn’t. And now there’s definitely nowhere to go. I believe in our boys and girls. They will protect us. If we all run away, who will be left here? You know, it’s not just the fear of leaving. It’s the love for this city. It’s stronger than fear.
What was the hardest time during the full-scale invasion?
When my daughter’s husband was killed at the beginning of the full-scale invasion. He couldn’t sit at home when it all started. He went to defend Ukraine. A few months later, we received the news. It was a heavy loss for our family. He is our hero, it hurts so much,” Lidiia’s voice becomes quieter, tinged with sadness.
Do you watch the news?
No. Mostly TV series. They distract me a little. The news is too painful to watch.
What do you think about the future? For yourself, for the city, for Ukraine?
I don’t want to see my future somewhere abroad. It’s here. In Ukraine. In Sloviansk. My family, my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren are here.
What gives you the strength to hold on?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a habit. I’ve lived here all my life, I don’t know how to do anything else. Or maybe it’s my children and grandchildren. They call every day, they worry. I tell them not to worry, that everything will be fine. And then there are my flowers. Who will look after them if I leave?
Sloviansk continues to live. Despite the proximity of the front line, despite the losses and pain. Some people, like Lidiia Burlatska, remain. Their quiet heroism in everyday tasks — watering flowers, feeding animals, calling their children — is what keeps life going even where it seems impossible.
Author: Anna Burlatska (adapted by Jared Goyette)
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