It was my last night in Ukraine. I was leaving Kyiv the next morning, bags half packed, passport already out on the table. One of those nights where you tell yourself to keep things simple and not get involved in anything that could complicate travel. There was a large demonstration near the president's office over Zelensky's meeting with Putin. I didn't really understand what the meeting was about. What I did understand was that people were upset, organized, and that multiple militias had shown up. It was not violent, just a large, serious show of support for Ukraine.
My plan was reasonable. Since I didn't know if things might escalate later, I figured I would just head toward the airport early, sleep there, and avoid the city center entirely.
Then my roommate messaged me and told me to come see him at the demonstration.
So I abandoned the sensible idea, got on a bus, and headed straight for Maidan anyway.
I met him right at the police line. Almost immediately he leaned over and said, very calmly, "Don't speak English. Don't let anyone know you're American." Which is a wild thing to hear when you're already standing in the middle of it.
There were police lines stacked deep, floodlights washing everything in yellow, and a steady tension rather than explosive.
Demonstrators in fatigues waited around, talking quietly among themselves.
They had tents established, I didn't go inside.
Every time I had been to Maidan before that night, there was a piano in the square. It was worn down, scuffed, damaged in some areas. Sometimes someone would be playing it. Other times it would just be sitting there, having been dragged to a slightly different spot since the last time I passed through.
That night it was no longer in the open square. It had been moved in front of the president's office and surrounded by signs.
My roommate explained the piano to me. During the early days of Euromaidan, a piano was placed in Maidan and played by protesters while confrontations were happening around them. and It became a symbol.
The night didn't tip over into anything worse. After talking for some time, me and my roommate finally said our goodbyes and I left the area, doing the thing I probably should have done in the first place. I headed for the airport, spent the night there, and boarded my flight back to the United States in the morning.
It had been two years.