Oymyakon: the selo where I was born and raised. Built in Serbia and on top of permafrost, Oymyakon is considered the coldest habitable place on Earth, which I had the pleasure of experiencing first-hand for the first sixteen years of my life. And let me tell you, when you've survived that many years underneath a nearly continuously darkened sky where raw, frozen fish is considered a succulent, fancy meal, you tend to wish for change. That's what I thought, anyway, until the first time I had expressed my opinion about wanting a different scene to my father, who I had thought would feel the same. Unfortunately, I happened to be incorrect.
"You want to leave?" he had asked with a mortified expression on his wrinkled, leathery face; an expression that suggested all the things a daughter would be afraid of. So, in fear of disappointment and having a cage formed around me, I claimed I was simply joking around and assured him that I most definitely would never leave our dry, frozenly dead home. Fortunately, my father is exceptionally gullible, which may be the reason his parents were able to convince him to be happy living in Oymyakon, freezing his toes off while mining gold and eating frozen deer meat. Though much to his dismay, he was never able to make it so I was happy there, and when it eventually became obvious that I was unhappy, he questioned why.
It was difficult explaining to him why I was unhappy, how this special land that he had cherished so lovingly for so long wasn't enough to fulfill my hopes and dreams. I began spouting my inner thoughts and visions. He always gave me the same worried but also interested look as I spoke. I asked him to visualize my visions and think about my questions; what would it be like to live somewhere else? To look down and instead of seeing solid ice, see luscious green grass, surrounded by lively trees and vibrant flowers? Can you imagine opening your door and being greeted with welcoming warm air instead of sharp, stinging cold? To go to the beach and shuffle your toes through the hot sand, watching as seagulls swoop high and low above the calm waves of a summer ocean?
I told him I have dreams. Dreams where I live in these warm places, where various fruits and vegetables grow plentiful on bright green plants and people laugh and run around in the shining sun until their skin turns pink. Where they still have cold weather during winter, but the refreshing cold that relieves you after a long day in the heat, like the burning heat we welcome from our homes after a day outside on the frozen land. I dreamt of running through fields of golden wheat with the gentle wind making my sundress move gracefully against my knees, of plump little birds chirping in the mornings as awakening sunlight creeps over the treetops and through delicate windows, of walking through a friendly neighborhood on a warm, sunny afternoon, smiling and exchanging greetings with the kind residents.
I tell my father how much I love him, how grateful I am for him raising me and teaching me the things I know, but I have to leave to follow what my heart longs for. He listens, he understands, and he lets me go. I will always now feel slight homesickness and long for my father’s presence, but in the end, I was allowed to roam free. I'm glad I took the risk and strove to experience my long-lasting dreams. If I hadn't, I would never have had the wonderful life I did.
© Kayla Minder