In early summer of 2014, my sister and I went to a sanatorium in Mariupol, and our mother settled nearby and came to us every day. Then the war began.
My dad took our relatives and a cat. He came to us in Mariupol. We rented an apartment. I went to school. Parents looked for work.
I started to worry quite a lot. I could not sleep at night. It was very frightening. I wanted to came back home. Four days later, they started shooting even harder, and we drove home. Then we learned that a huge shell had fallen in the park, but, fortunately, it did not explode. If it had gone off, only ruins would remain from our house. Luckily, it ended well.
