I Never Thought I Would One Day Search for My Childhood in Japanese Supermarkets
12/07/26, 03:00
UHJ continues a series of essays by its women members.
An essay by Olena Kushnarova
I never thought that one day I would begin searching for my childhood in Japanese supermarkets.
And yet, every summer, that is exactly what I do. I set off on a hunt for apricots.
I was born in a town that grew from a settlement of free Cossacks. My childhood passed by the shallowest and warmest sea in the world. I studied in the City of Roses. I lived in Kyiv. And now, for the second time, I am putting down roots in Japan. The first time, we lived here because of my husband's work. The second time, I came after the beginning of the full-scale war.
When, one after another, the places I called home fell under occupation, my memory began bringing back its warmest recollections. Childhood. Youth. The comfort of my parents' home. The hot winds of the Ukrainian steppe. And the fragrance of apricots.
That is what my childhood smells like.
In spring, it smells of blossoming trees. In summer, of ripe, juicy, sweet apricots from the market near our home. In autumn, of dried apricots. In winter, of my mother's apricot jam served with pancakes.
I search for this sun-filled, fragrant fruit in Japan. Every season, I set off on a hunt through local supermarkets. I long to one day share this taste and, above all, this scent with my granddaughters. I promise them that when the war is over, we will travel together in the summer to their second homeland. So that, for them too, an apricot will become not just a fruit, but a memory of summer, warmth, and Ukraine.
Friends from Hokkaido sometimes treat me to a few gooseberries or red currants. I accept this small gift with gratitude, close my eyes, and for a moment, I am home again.
I am a photographer. I have thousands of photographs—of my family, my children, and my granddaughters. Although there are far fewer photographs of me, I could have chosen newer ones. But as I looked through my archive, I stopped at these.
They were taken before the pandemic. Before the full-scale war.
In a country where strong, happy, and free people live.
And where apricots smell like childhood.
