576
Babuska I plisol
"Babuska I plisol" - a three-year miracle of rabbit fur coat and a round hat of the unknown beast rolled to her apartment on the third floor. Behind him rose parents fuzzy snow and laughing. Before their divorce was still two years. Grandma had bustled in the kitchen, from which odors swept great fried potatoes with sour cream and something sweet baked probably Cake "Anthill". Grandfather in the room, as always though, knit network for summer fishing. Kid important strode into the room, found his toys and engaged in their children's urgent cases. Adults bryakali kitchen utensils, crystal ringing, not once called him there. And he was setting his soldiers thoughtfully, sculpted from clay fortress and dreamed that the parents left it here overnight, and in the evening he would listen to old wives' tales, because reading it is not yet able to.
***
"Grandma, tell me" - his seven years, he had been able to read, but that is what my grandmother says in the books not written. It has long been dark, but soft voice enveloped his grandmother, not lulls, but on the contrary, it brings to laughter, then suddenly tingle tear, but in a completely humorless about it. Many did not know about her relationship with his grandfather, and about his father and mother. He left after a divorce with her mother, she even wanted to forbid them to see his father, but saved the same grandmother, and now every two weeks at the weekend he went to visit. The current wife of the father he did not like, but it's worth it to endure at least for the attacks of the forest with a camera "Zenith", which he, of course, the hands were not given, but the photo with which he showed with his father, with a delicious tea from of melted snow, and just in order to be together.
***
"Grandma, where are you?" - He and his grandmother play hide and seek, in their small house in the collective garden on Cherry Street. And hide it, in fact, nowhere, but he has as many as five minutes can not find it, and that is thoughtfully among a small kitchen and bewildered looks around, suddenly I hear a barely suppressed laughter. In a small space between the refrigerator and the wall - 30 cm width of the old boots sitting grandmother. And now they are laughing together. And then the milk and potatoes, fried slices directly on the stove, but cherries straight from the bush, but the domino evening with neighbors. And by all means "Field of Dreams" from the neighbors. His TV in the house appeared much later. But all the neighbors loved the guy, and everyone strives to treat its berry and he flew on a bicycle on hilly roads and detrital smiling sun, squinting at him. Then he went to the coastal meadow, nosivshuyu the proud name of the beach and collecting mushrooms there, although my grandmother rarely been kind to him, saying that there is "at the train ... ne all leaving," but the important fact was the process ... or sit together on a boat and went to the relatives on the other side of the pond, had a long conversation and returned to the garden, which stoked the stove and went to bed.
***
"Granny hello, Kostya did not come?" - He was about twelve. He is now a bunch of brothers and sisters. But he came to my grandmother to play with his cousin brother, he was older than five years, but with whom he had had his secrets. The number of soldiers and clay on the carpet dramatically increased, but my grandmother calmly but firmly said, "Get all, come to dinner" - and they dutifully went to the small, to the last scratch studied the kitchen and ate there amazing soup, chops, and my grandmother sat sighed that have nothing to feed the grandchildren. Sometimes brothers talked till three o'clock in the morning. Grandma did not prevent it, but grumbled to round out. But the next morning went very quietly, so as not to wake the brats. There were also trips to practice guitar. Why it was necessary, and who came up with it at all, history is silent, however, four years were killed on the music. Nothing happened, and the guitar for a long time gathering dust in the attic until it passed to his younger brother, and then not vanished in the poplar fluff their small town.
***
"Babul, I briefly" - from the time he went to college, then there is every weekend, but not for long, an hour or two, not more. My grandmother is very awaited these visits, prepares all the most delicious that just loved her grandson. He told the latest news, brought her books, which she left alone (my grandfather died a year ago), I read constantly. And she sang the songs, especially she liked "Enemies have burnt native hut" (grandchildren were joking, singing "Doctors native hut burned down") and cried. And then he had the woman and visits to my grandmother became even rarer. But in any case, every November, is already under the snow, he flew from the nearby town to visit her, carrying with him a small gift box and unwavering spirits "Red Moscow»,
***
"Babul is your invitation to our wedding," - my grandmother could not believe it. She smiled and said simply: "Has waited." His wedding was the only one whose grandchildren she found out. At the wedding, she and former matchmakers sat demurely in the corner and drives the mind congratulatory speech. But when the leader gave her word, she could only say: "My dear, my dear, love each other, take care of each other ..." He waved his hand and went to the place.
***
"Grandma, are we" - together with his brother, they came to the garden - my grandmother asked me to help. "Will you have breakfast?" - She asked solicitously. "No, you come to work." "Well, then you're on the roof, and you're in the garden" - ordered the grandmother. By evening, the grandchildren almost falling from fatigue, but is willing, next to his grandmother, who seemed never tired. She carried water, weeding beds than it was engaged in a greenhouse. One she made more of them both. But, in general, they were ready for such an eventuality. In the end, they were urban.
***
"Babul, how are you feeling?" - It came with a friend, whose grandmother also knew since kindergarten. "Burn" - admitted grandmother. "Maybe a beer?". And they drank beer, and my grandmother was easier. And suddenly it becomes very easy and the diagnosis is not confirmed? Or maybe it's a mistake? And suddenly ... suddenly? .. The disease has crept imperceptibly. Grandmother lifetime ate only fresh vegetables from his garden, meat, milk, bought in the private sector. But in their town it was a very hazardous industry, and everyone knew it. Because every person must have a child, wearing a incurable infection, which eventually breaks out. Someone earlier, someone later. The diagnosis did not say, but my grandmother guessed.
***
"Babul, can you hear me?" - In the evening of that day, when my grandmother on the anniversary of the death of my grandfather went to the cemetery, she fell ill and no longer rise. He was always afraid of July this month left nearly all of his older relatives - grandmother, grandfather ... July ended, and arrived at heart a little relief. Unfortunately, not for long. It was the work week, and my grandmother was getting worse and he could not do anything to escape it. On Saturday night, he and his wife came to spend the night with her grandmother. She died in their arms. My wife said that the last time she had been unconscious, everyone called him. Beloved grandson ...
***
"Grandma, I have come," - the wind covered up with snow mound, where the stone was written her name and the names of her grandmother and grandfather. The difference in the birth - half years. The difference in death - ten years. Obmel brushed the snow from the monument, put some chocolates on the table, threw a couple of cookies cemetery dogs. He turned and hunched went to the gate. Field, trees, poles and intricately curved sailed off somewhere to the side under the oncoming tears. He walked through the snow, past his car and down the field, putting steps in poetry ...
I will go through the field with daisies,
Collecting the fragrant bouquet.
The vase will set them between the cups,
One that is no longer with me.
The garden is still the same, the neighbors are friendly,
Even the sun rises all the same.
Only here between summer cherries
On the road, no one is waiting for us.
And the little house in a green peeling
It smells like ten years ago - and burlap cheese bought
At the neighbor fifty seven.
Old boots, with torn galoshes,
As he warmed his tired legs!
So much has happened in the life of a good!
But ... I did not want to remember.
Slightly faded bouquet of chamomile
I will put on the tombstone
Where laughing eyes of my grandmother ...
Unfortunately they do not ...
It was far away, in the garden, which was not far from the cemetery, on Cherry Street ... It was to my childhood ...
© Puzyrkov
Source:
***
"Grandma, tell me" - his seven years, he had been able to read, but that is what my grandmother says in the books not written. It has long been dark, but soft voice enveloped his grandmother, not lulls, but on the contrary, it brings to laughter, then suddenly tingle tear, but in a completely humorless about it. Many did not know about her relationship with his grandfather, and about his father and mother. He left after a divorce with her mother, she even wanted to forbid them to see his father, but saved the same grandmother, and now every two weeks at the weekend he went to visit. The current wife of the father he did not like, but it's worth it to endure at least for the attacks of the forest with a camera "Zenith", which he, of course, the hands were not given, but the photo with which he showed with his father, with a delicious tea from of melted snow, and just in order to be together.
***
"Grandma, where are you?" - He and his grandmother play hide and seek, in their small house in the collective garden on Cherry Street. And hide it, in fact, nowhere, but he has as many as five minutes can not find it, and that is thoughtfully among a small kitchen and bewildered looks around, suddenly I hear a barely suppressed laughter. In a small space between the refrigerator and the wall - 30 cm width of the old boots sitting grandmother. And now they are laughing together. And then the milk and potatoes, fried slices directly on the stove, but cherries straight from the bush, but the domino evening with neighbors. And by all means "Field of Dreams" from the neighbors. His TV in the house appeared much later. But all the neighbors loved the guy, and everyone strives to treat its berry and he flew on a bicycle on hilly roads and detrital smiling sun, squinting at him. Then he went to the coastal meadow, nosivshuyu the proud name of the beach and collecting mushrooms there, although my grandmother rarely been kind to him, saying that there is "at the train ... ne all leaving," but the important fact was the process ... or sit together on a boat and went to the relatives on the other side of the pond, had a long conversation and returned to the garden, which stoked the stove and went to bed.
***
"Granny hello, Kostya did not come?" - He was about twelve. He is now a bunch of brothers and sisters. But he came to my grandmother to play with his cousin brother, he was older than five years, but with whom he had had his secrets. The number of soldiers and clay on the carpet dramatically increased, but my grandmother calmly but firmly said, "Get all, come to dinner" - and they dutifully went to the small, to the last scratch studied the kitchen and ate there amazing soup, chops, and my grandmother sat sighed that have nothing to feed the grandchildren. Sometimes brothers talked till three o'clock in the morning. Grandma did not prevent it, but grumbled to round out. But the next morning went very quietly, so as not to wake the brats. There were also trips to practice guitar. Why it was necessary, and who came up with it at all, history is silent, however, four years were killed on the music. Nothing happened, and the guitar for a long time gathering dust in the attic until it passed to his younger brother, and then not vanished in the poplar fluff their small town.
***
"Babul, I briefly" - from the time he went to college, then there is every weekend, but not for long, an hour or two, not more. My grandmother is very awaited these visits, prepares all the most delicious that just loved her grandson. He told the latest news, brought her books, which she left alone (my grandfather died a year ago), I read constantly. And she sang the songs, especially she liked "Enemies have burnt native hut" (grandchildren were joking, singing "Doctors native hut burned down") and cried. And then he had the woman and visits to my grandmother became even rarer. But in any case, every November, is already under the snow, he flew from the nearby town to visit her, carrying with him a small gift box and unwavering spirits "Red Moscow»,
***
"Babul is your invitation to our wedding," - my grandmother could not believe it. She smiled and said simply: "Has waited." His wedding was the only one whose grandchildren she found out. At the wedding, she and former matchmakers sat demurely in the corner and drives the mind congratulatory speech. But when the leader gave her word, she could only say: "My dear, my dear, love each other, take care of each other ..." He waved his hand and went to the place.
***
"Grandma, are we" - together with his brother, they came to the garden - my grandmother asked me to help. "Will you have breakfast?" - She asked solicitously. "No, you come to work." "Well, then you're on the roof, and you're in the garden" - ordered the grandmother. By evening, the grandchildren almost falling from fatigue, but is willing, next to his grandmother, who seemed never tired. She carried water, weeding beds than it was engaged in a greenhouse. One she made more of them both. But, in general, they were ready for such an eventuality. In the end, they were urban.
***
"Babul, how are you feeling?" - It came with a friend, whose grandmother also knew since kindergarten. "Burn" - admitted grandmother. "Maybe a beer?". And they drank beer, and my grandmother was easier. And suddenly it becomes very easy and the diagnosis is not confirmed? Or maybe it's a mistake? And suddenly ... suddenly? .. The disease has crept imperceptibly. Grandmother lifetime ate only fresh vegetables from his garden, meat, milk, bought in the private sector. But in their town it was a very hazardous industry, and everyone knew it. Because every person must have a child, wearing a incurable infection, which eventually breaks out. Someone earlier, someone later. The diagnosis did not say, but my grandmother guessed.
***
"Babul, can you hear me?" - In the evening of that day, when my grandmother on the anniversary of the death of my grandfather went to the cemetery, she fell ill and no longer rise. He was always afraid of July this month left nearly all of his older relatives - grandmother, grandfather ... July ended, and arrived at heart a little relief. Unfortunately, not for long. It was the work week, and my grandmother was getting worse and he could not do anything to escape it. On Saturday night, he and his wife came to spend the night with her grandmother. She died in their arms. My wife said that the last time she had been unconscious, everyone called him. Beloved grandson ...
***
"Grandma, I have come," - the wind covered up with snow mound, where the stone was written her name and the names of her grandmother and grandfather. The difference in the birth - half years. The difference in death - ten years. Obmel brushed the snow from the monument, put some chocolates on the table, threw a couple of cookies cemetery dogs. He turned and hunched went to the gate. Field, trees, poles and intricately curved sailed off somewhere to the side under the oncoming tears. He walked through the snow, past his car and down the field, putting steps in poetry ...
I will go through the field with daisies,
Collecting the fragrant bouquet.
The vase will set them between the cups,
One that is no longer with me.
The garden is still the same, the neighbors are friendly,
Even the sun rises all the same.
Only here between summer cherries
On the road, no one is waiting for us.
And the little house in a green peeling
It smells like ten years ago - and burlap cheese bought
At the neighbor fifty seven.
Old boots, with torn galoshes,
As he warmed his tired legs!
So much has happened in the life of a good!
But ... I did not want to remember.
Slightly faded bouquet of chamomile
I will put on the tombstone
Where laughing eyes of my grandmother ...
Unfortunately they do not ...
It was far away, in the garden, which was not far from the cemetery, on Cherry Street ... It was to my childhood ...
© Puzyrkov
Source:
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