As I fumble in my pocket for my phone, I see a notification. It’s from my friend Anastasia* in Ukraine. She, her husband Maxim*, and their three rescue dogs are holed up in a basement.
She writes: “Today we woke up again from the explosions. We sat in the dark for a very long time. When it was over, I fell asleep.”
I send her a big heart, one of those GIFs that attempts to convey love, and add, “It’s all so wrong, so unjust.”
Then, I put away my phone.
I’m overwhelmed by sadness.
Knowing what to say is hard.
The fact is, I am safe, and she is not, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change that.