The concierge, our family dentist, the cashier lady at the corner store—everyone keeps asking:
“Kaaaatya, oh come on, Kaaaatya, what have you come up with this time? You’re going to stay, right, Kaaaatya? You’ve had your little Canada adventure – time to come home! You’ve got everything here already, why jump over your head?”

But Katya remembers why she did jump.
Sometimes she forgets, but deep down – she remembers.

And so, she hugs her mom… her dad, her grandma – 88 years old, her little sister – six years younger.
She buries her nose in Nikita’s hair, breathing him in – the same scent as always. Still just a child. Still that child. Her favorite – the most favorite of all.

She runs her hand through that thick mop – such joy!
There he is – you!
Hair the color of her childhood, same nose, same eyes, same face, same nature – stubborn and sensitive.
He resists, grumbles, makes some clever joke – and they laugh.
Both howling silently, like wolves, but hiding it from everyone.
He stays. She doesn’t.

Katya remembers why she jumped – and keeps on not staying.

Now she hugs her mountains, the ocean with whales and orcas; her kayak, her dusty hiking boots – oh, the bears and wolves they’ve seen together.
This is Katya’s island of freedom.

She buries her nose – now in different hair, breathes it in.
Still the same. Still her favorite scent.
Such joy.
There he is – you.
The same nature – stubborn and sensitive.
He resists, grumbles:
“You’re gone too long again. Too long. The neighbor’s corgis got so fat they can’t even hop the fence to attack us anymore. And me? I lost my appetite – for a whole month.”
(He’s probably been tossing them his food.)

They both howl like wolves again, silently.
He stays.
She stays.

They both know where Katya lived for 35 years – and who still lives there.
The same nature – stubborn and sensitive.
What she decides – she does, even if she cries about it for years.

Katya adjusts her backpack – and stays where her heart beats louder: on her island of freedom. 

On the same island of freedom where he remains too – the one with hair the color of her childhood, her nose, her eyes.

There’s only ever one chosen freedom for each of us.
It’s just a shame that those freedoms are on different islands.