My car slowed down as I noticed the small, colorful building that came into view. I had arrived. Finally. I parked in a convenient spot on the side of the road and got out, closing the door behind me. I just stood there for a moment. The building, made childish with colorful, pastel blue, green, and pink patterns on the white-painted walls, had changed even a little. Maybe the only difference was that the cherry tree in the garden was dry when I left, but now it was in bloom. A curl formed on my lips that I couldn't help but notice. Still wearing my military boots, which I hadn't even taken the time to change into yet, my long strides quickly consumed the distance. I entered the familiar garden gate of the kindergarten and went inside, and before I entered the building, those familiar ballerina shoes with light heels in front of the door caught my eye, and for a moment, I felt a disturbance in my heartbeat.

My Neva.. She was here.

Of course she was here. It was almost checkout time; she would return the children to their families; she was the teacher on duty today. Even when I was far away, there was no way I could forget that schedule that I always knew by heart. My heart pounded with the excitement of seeing her. I took off my boots and immediately placed them next to her ballerina shoes in military order, the way I was accustomed to. The striking contrast between my big, black combat boots and her white, elegant ballerina shoes was very pleasant. I went inside, then silently. I silently made my way to her classroom through the familiar corridors of the building that I knew by heart, which I knew by heart. And then, I heard her voice.

"OK, kids, you can put the drawings you made in your bags. Show them to your families when you get home, okay?" I leaned on the doorstep. She was there, her back to me. Her dark brown wavy hair fell over her shoulders and the dark brown, loose sweater she was wearing. My Neva...