This story happened a long time. On the street were merciless' 90s. Poverty and hopelessness seized people. Except for the "nimble speculators", few up in the morning with a smile.
Every day I go to work, had to pass one yard. Old, rickety fence, gazebo and shabby little house unbleached long time did not pay the slightest attention. But there is a BUT, forcing reluctant to turn his head and look into the yard. On a few old apple trees were hung feeders. There were many pieces of 9 or 10. In the summer, the foliage, they were not very visible, but in winter these places during daylight hours stun squeaking and chirping. Flocks of birds literally circle dances. I was wondering where "permanent holiday."
One morning, passing by, I saw the old man in the yard. Bushy gray beard and a stick in his hands betrayed a venerable age, but a strong step spoke of "nature." I stood aside and watched. As soon as the old man appeared in the yard, the whole gang of birds sitting before on trees, starred in the flight and picked up a mere murmur. The old man slowly walked over to the feeder and became something to pour into them with the package.
mark wings in all directions, the snow, the birds immediately filled a trough. Began "battle" for food. The bravest sit right on the old man, jump in his hand, which he held open with food and grabbing chips, sparhivali. From the side it seemed to me that the old man swept a whirlwind. On my only trough having fun on a tree in the yard of the house, such a rush I did not notice.
The old man saw me and grinned. And then he waved his hand and a cloud explosion shattered the birds on the branches of trees, hit them with a Snow.
Several times I watched as an old man feeding the birds. And one day, once in the other side of town, I saw ... this man standing near the stop. Beside him lay a hat. The old man begged. To be honest, I was taken aback. It was like something uncomfortable to come and throw a coin. I thought: - get to know me, it will be uncomfortable. I walked by his side, even though he felt remorse. It will not be as easy as people beg. Still not had the decency to leave. I stopped by passing the boy, gave him money and asked to put them in a hat to the old man. He did not break, just picked, I went and put. The old man touched the guy's shoulder. He froze. Nodosum hand paternally patted guy hair. The boy smiled and said something to the old man and went on.
On May 9, I met this man near the square where there was a parade of the Victory. Slightly hunched over, leaning on a stick, he stood on the sidelines, along with other soldiers of the Victory. Their tunic glittered with awards, but the sadness was in their eyes. Deceived and poor winners of fascism met the holiday is not so, as it was only recently. Do not become the country for which they fought. There were no more homeland. New authorities do not need the gray veterans. She saw in them only ballast. Pitiful handouts on Victory Day, some refused to take. Despite the miserable life, ashamed.
I walked over and congratulated the veterans on the holiday. The old man recognized me. He took my arm and led the way.
- You, my son, do not think that I am a beggar, - he said.
- I do not need much, I'm on my pension is small, small live Hello. But "my kids" (as he called the birds) is not enough to feed the spirit. Very little remains after food crumbs. So I sometimes go away from home, ask the help of people that would so zёrnyshek bread "kids" buy. Winter is a fierce woman, and they are small, it is difficult to them. Thank you for your help and.
I realized then that the old man saw me and saw how I gave money to the kid. I felt terribly ashamed. Ashamed of himself, for him, for their homeland, which is so easily lost, for everything ... I do not know what to say. The old man smiled and said:
- Let's go for 50 grams for those who did not return from battle.
Years passed. As the story was forgotten. He drowned in the vortex of the struggle for survival. But recently I went to visit relatives (graves) in the cemetery. He stood, to mourn, to remember the past. Then he decided to walk through the cemetery, look around. I wandered. And suddenly ... With crooked, half-rotten pole with a red asterisk shabby upstairs with enamel circle of the old man looked at me. All the same kind eyes, all the same beard. The plate was old and peeling. From the photo on the left only her name - Ivan, and two letters of the surname Ko .... No dates, no nothing. The earthen mound has long disintegrated and caught up with the earth. This longing suddenly jerked my soul. I almost started to cry. I corrected that could have grave and decided to go look at the house of an old man.
He arrived at the house, and ... not only destroyed the walls without windows, overgrown garden, a lonely old apple tree and debris feeders on the branches. Oh, and made his way to me. He sat down on the seat and began to cry. One hundred years have not been crying, and could not stand here.
Forgive me, forgive us all, forgot all the old war hero, veteran. We will be better, we fix it, back smiles to people and their homeland.