For me, it’s Sunday morning cartoons during my early years at the Russian orphanage.
Ёжик в тумане!
The list goes on and on.
I remember sometimes lying in bed, not knowing whether I had slept the night before, waiting for the supervisor to wake up so I could make my way to the family room.
“Can I watch cartoons?” She would nod.
I’d flip through the channels until I saw animated characters dancing across the screen. Slowly, the room would fill up. Other youngsters would join me. With each person entering the room, I’d turn to see who it was. No words were exchanged. Just a nod and a smile. Shared excitement.
For those hours, we weren’t just orphans. It felt as if we were superheroes, explorers, and more. The stories, as brief as they were, helped me escape the reality I was living in. I wanted to grasp each of those moments and never let them go. They meant the world to me.
But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. The screen would eventually go blank. The programming would transition to more “adult” television. I remember the sinking feeling, the wish that those moments could last forever, and the longing for the next Sunday to arrive sooner.
Looking back on it today, it wasn’t just about the cartoons. It was about the reality they created. The feeling of belonging, the shared experiences, and the opportunity to bond with fellow orphans. The cartoons brought us laughter. They helped me understand that joy can be found in the smallest of moments.
I am grateful for those Sunday mornings and the moments they helped create … moments I hope to remember for as long as I can ❤️