Hosha is a 16-year-old young woman from Kharkiv who writes under a pseudonym. She was born and has lived most of her life in Kharkiv.
That is where her ordinary everyday life, her schooling, and her childhood took place. When Russia’s full-scale invasion began, Hosha’s family was forced to move temporarily to a smaller town. The decision to leave was not made immediately, but only in April 2022, when Hosha was still a child. The family lived in the new place for about three years.
That period brought many new experiences and taught her to appreciate simple things and to adapt to constant change.
Although Kharkiv is still dangerous, Hosha says she can no longer live without the feeling of home. That is why returning feels inevitable — and at the same time like the moment to close one chapter of life and begin the next.
Hosha writes irregularly but continuously about her own life in the midst of war.
I know Christmas is approaching when shops fill up with holiday symbols: Christmas stars, soon carried by carol singers as they go from house to house, bringing people together and lifting spirits; candles lit at the table with hopes for a brighter future; and kutia ingredient sets, which we also bought for our Christmas meal.
What I find especially interesting is how talking with people from different regions reveals small but meaningful differences in recipes. Some make kutia with rice and nuts, others with wheat and raisins. Some add candied fruit or sweets, making it thick or almost soup-like. It’s fascinating to observe and take little ideas for yourself.
But what I love most is the moment when the city starts to dress for Christmas. One day there is only a single tree on the street, and the next day large, glittering light installations appear, and suddenly there are many trees. To me, every person adds a bit of Christmas to the city in their own way: lights glowing in windows, children hanging paper snowflakes they carefully cut out in kindergarten or at home with their parents. Near some buildings, even the trees growing outside are decorated.
On the holiday itself, families often try to gather together. Of course, the war has scattered people across different parts of the world, and often you can only see each other through a phone screen. Still, that doesn’t stop people from talking properly and spending the evening together.
I remember how, before the war, people walked the streets late into the night during Christmas and New Year. Someone strolled through the Christmas market on the main square next to a huge tree. Somewhere a child ran by with a candy apple in hand, and you walked slowly between the stalls, enjoying the incredible smells of food on your way to the outdoor ice rink.
Now I recall this with a smile and a strong longing to feel it again. And yet, looking around today, I realize that even now – despite the war – our city of Kharkiv is still full of life and even happiness. There is something special about our people: no matter what happens, they still find a way to smile.
Before curfew, you can still walk through parks where gazebos glow with lights, calm themed music plays, decorations hang everywhere, and countless light strings illuminate not only the streets but also give a small ray of light to our hearts. You can step into a café for hot tea or cocoa, or visit a shopping center to see children’s programs, so they too can briefly escape all this chaos, air-raid alarms, and constant tension, and simply enjoy being children.
Of course, because of shelling, moving around is often dangerous. That is why metro stations are also decorated with lights and Christmas trees, allowing events and children’s activities to take place underground, as safely as possible.
Still, hope feels close – like frosty air that burns your chest but leaves faith that the next breath will be fresh, and that the coming year will be lighter.
For me, Christmas is proof that we are still alive. That we still have our culture, traditions, and family customs – and that we have the right to celebrate. Christmas truly helps to step away from daily stress: you think about seeing your family again, their joyful faces, and long, warm conversations lasting late into the night.
So I want to wish you well too.
May there be kind, bright people around you, harmony in your family, and plenty of good food on your tables.
May Christmas bring peace, and may the New Year bring new strength and good news.
Happy holidays.
