The Story That Made Me Unfollow Jessica Wildfire
And just like that, I became unfluenced.
I wasn’t going to write about this.
Then, it happened. I met a woman at the park, with her 5-ish-year-old daughter.
This woman was so beautiful and so sad. She wasn’t looking at me. And when I first talked to her, she didn’t even hear me.
It was only the two of us at the playground — and our children roaming around — and it didn’t occur to her I might be talking to her. Or maybe she was lost in another world. Her world before the war.
She was a Ukrainian refugee, trying to give a sense of normalcy to their torn-apart life, by taking her daughter to this park from a foreign country, in a foreign world.
She barely spoke English, but we smiled at each other a lot more once I explained to her that my son was eager to play with her daughter and he didn’t have the courage, so he sent me to ask her to play with him.
That’s when I was reminded of Jessica’s story that I tried to read earlier that day.
I tried, but I couldn’t.
It felt outrageous to me for her to equal what’s happening in Ukraine with the way she’s currently living in the land of all opportunities.
