It had been a little over four years since I had last seen Raivis. He called me at least once a month, so it wasn't like I was completely out of touch with him, but I hadn't seen his face for four long years. I hadn't seen his smile, and I hadn't held him or touched him in so long. I had only heard his voice. But that was enough. His messages were always short, because they were made whenever Ivan was out of the house, but whatever he said was important to me. I got to hear his laughs, and I got to hear his tears as sometimes he just called me and cried. I missed him terribly, but at least we were able to talk to each other.
I was sixteen now, and he was nineteen. Still, he was older than me. I hadn't caught up; he'd always be ahead of me a little-just by three years. I still lived with my adoptive parents-Sweden and Finland, and Raivis was still living with Russia. He had managed to tell me bits and pieces of what had happened to him, and events of the previous invasion as well. Raivi