Little Dmitriy lived with his mother and grandmother in a quiet hut on the edge of the village. And his father was far away - where the war was raging. He left in the spring. He kissed Dmitriy on the top of his head, promising to return. But there hasn't been a single letter from him for three months.
Every evening, Dmytrok stood by the window. He pressed his nose to the cold windowpane. He looked at the road - what if dad was coming? Mom would say: "Son, don't stand there for too long, you'll catch a cold." But Dmytrok stood. He held a small photograph in his hand - there was dad smiling, still without his military uniform.
Christmas Eve has come. On the table are kutya, uzvar, fish, twelve dishes. Grandma sings carols in a low voice. Mom smiles forcefully — Dmytryk sees her eyes, which are wet. He smiles too. Because he doesn't want Mom to be sad.
After dinner, Dmytryk went to the window. He lit a candle and placed it on the windowsill — «so that dad could see him walking.» It was snowing outside, the snow was swirling like a whirlwind.
"Saint Nicholas," the boy whispered, "I'm not asking for a gift. I'm asking for one thing: for dad to come back. Not for Christmas. Maybe in the spring. Maybe someday. Just for him to come back.".
And he stood by the window for a long time. Until his eyes were glued together. Grandma came, took him in her arms, and carried him to bed.
In his dream, Dmitrik saw someone tall, dressed in white and gold robes, walking through the snow towards their house. He had a golden mitre on his head and a long staff in his hand. He had a white beard down to his waist. And next to him was a white dove.
The old man went to the window. He raised his hand. In his palm was a small piece of paper—folded in four, like soldiers' letters. He quietly placed it on the windowsill, next to the candle.
«"He's alive," the old man said kindly, as if a bell had rung. "The letter was delayed, but it's coming. And he himself is coming, too. He just has a long way to go. Wait. Be patient. Love hears.".
Dmitrik woke up. The sun was already peeking through the window. On the windowsill lay a real letter. In a military envelope, with a seal, with Dad's hand on the address.
The boy shouted: "Mom! Letter! Letter!" Mom came running. With trembling hands she opened it. She read. And started crying. And Dmytryk thought: is she sad again? But mom was smiling through her tears.
«"Dad is alive. Injured, in the hospital. They'll write soon when they bring him home. Soon.".
Dmitrik raised his hand to the window. The sun shone on the snow - and every snowflake sparkled. He knew: somewhere out there, far away, in a white room, dad was also looking out the window. And he felt better. Because someone big, big put a warm hand on his shoulder.
💛 Love will not get lost even on the farthest journey. It always finds its way home.