Mom, you just live for a long time Bashny.Net

My mother 73. She puts me pears and says apologetically: "They are not very beautiful to look at, but very tasty! And of your without chemicals, you love the pear, take it."

I'll take it. And take fermented baked milk. Because I love fermented baked milk. And she's in the fridge "happens there is one jar, you only leave the day after tomorrow, a couple of times to have dinner".

Go out, get in the car, food.

Again, I was going anywhere. Rushing through the cities and villages. Change cities and time zones. Call to mom when we can. After all business. After coffee with my friends and manicure in the salon. Bring something tasty, quickly asking about the cases, eagerly listen to (well what their dad's doing?), being ironic about her needless and irrelevant from my point of view anxiety. And gone again — running their business.

Mom will tell me that I go naked, not Kuta throat, so the cough and not pass. I will say I work a lot and need to let it go. I agree that life is complex and not scary if I can't come.

And we live 40 kilometers from each other. I'm calling her regularly and listening to her slow and detailed stories about the market, about a sister who finds it difficult one in the village, that parsley again after the rain increased and it would be necessary to cut, and that the tomatoes are over, even green what a drought was, and the cat Murat lost his eye knows where I climbed...

I'm not interested. And I think that in her life nothing important going on. And I'm a little mad when she complains to me on his sores, and I ask her to please go to the doctor, and she shrugs, and I'm not a doctor, I don't know what medication you need to drink in the end?!

But my mom suddenly a plaintive way of saying, "Well, who do I complain if not to you?"

And I freeze with the phone in hand and realize I'm a rare bastard. And that this her clear and loud voice on the phone, and all her words and phrases, and our eternal disputes on who is right, and the showdown for no reason, and her lecture, and my teaching — all that is our life. That which is here and now...

I'm frustrated and going to her "unplanned", it is time to fry me some fish, dad cut watermelon and wants to pour "new wine." Wine can't, I'm driving. He drinks one, praises. We laugh.

I wrap up in mom's jacket, Zabkowice. Mom grasped, running to turn on the oven to "warm a bit the kitchen." And I am again a little girl, where everything is in order. And everything is delicious. And heat. And no problem...

Mom-mom, you only live long, because I don't know what it's like not to hear your voice on the telephone, because I don't know what it's like without your kitchen, where you feed me dinner and try to keep in warmth...



Author Zoya Kazanzhy


See also
"Dear mom, I never said"
Thank you, mom! I love you!


via www.adme.ru/video/spasibo-mama-ya-tebya-lyublyu-1009660/