Ode to the aunts Bashny.Net

They are called aunts. Contempt and sometimes with pity. Pay attention to not always lying exactly on the lips a lipstick, tired, like a grayish face. On bags and bags that do not fit into large or too skinny lap. They get on the subway as soon as the opportunity arises, and fall asleep as soon as the train starts to move. Young beauties think to myself, "but would not be the same aunt".





©David Stewart

And they, the aunt, don't think so. They live, work, work and work. They bloom a thankful smile when someone gives way. They can reprimand the bully, when the men sat with downcast eyes, as if they do not care about the intensifying scandal. They will rise first, if the car will go pregnant and invited her to sit with care, which can pay to a loved one.

They are called aunts. They are different. Local doctors and just different doctors from district clinics. Social workers. Tired teacher (who is also contemptuously referred to as teachers). The sellers and workers of factories.

They can advise a young mother how to calm the child, and run into irritation and anger.

They have work-worn hands with protruding veins and even varicose veins. And they are not worried — they take life for what it is.

They sometimes look in my book or tablet, and I see them start to read with me. Then I try to scroll slower so they have time to read.

They can go home to her husband and grown children, and sometimes go to an empty apartment. They become to the plate, cook dinner, feed family, clean. Lay the linen in the washing machine and sit down to the TV to rest and fall asleep in a few minutes, because I have an early morning.

You know, if you look into their eyes with love, you see those young and beautiful girls they once were. They chose a profession, got or not got married, gave birth or not given birth to children. They're hard-working. They put their heart and soul into a job and a family, and sometimes souls are not enough to communicate beyond these two points of life. They want their family was happy. At your workplace, school or clinic, they are transformed. They are burning my eyes. Instead of aunt — a professional. However, it is not strong enough. And all of them are missing and not missing: they're still trying, but alas. Responsibilities more and more, and they can't throw off no one.

They can't rest. And even shy. I hesitate to admit that they are tired. They don't say: "I need a vacation, I want to take a breath". They only humbly can say "Maybe the cottage for a day to get out." They will bring lunch to work and share it with those around. They genuinely will worry in case of any discord in your life. They really are hope you get a husband and children — not because it is supposed to, but because I really want you to be happy.

They can begin to grumble and even scream out of nowhere. They were tired, and aggression and irritation so long been accumulating.





But when they smile in response to the cry of outrage thank you and excuse me, they suddenly blossom.

You know, they didn't want to be aunts. They worked a lot and work. They ran a marathon and continue to run. They didn't read clever articles about how to cope with stress, so eat cakes and joking that "a good man should be plenty." They know a lot about cakes and how to bake. Of course, they are happy to buy their cakes. And homemade pickles. And if you go to their home, it is unlikely you will leave without a gift. In their hearts "it is more blessed to give than to receive", although they may not know these words.

Sometimes I look at them on the subway — tired, as if the gray of the eternal marathon, and it seems to me that nothing is not happy. But here comes a smiling toddler, and my aunt was the first to propose the mother to put it in its place. Or, seeing that I bend from the weight of the bags, suddenly offered: "Put me on my knees, still it will be easier".

They know how to smile, you know. They know how to laugh as do not know how to laugh we are young. They appreciate life and try not to complain. I love them, these aunts. Very much in our world rests on them. published

Author: Alexander Matrosova

P. S. And remember, just changing your mind — together we change the world! © econet

Source: www.matrony.ru/oda-tetkam/