The story of my neighbor, who was left alone in old age Bashny.Net

My neighbor Svetlana Fedorovna is 68 years old. She lives alone, so I sometimes go to her, bring something to tea. We communicate very nicely, she is so nice, she likes to tell stories about her travels. Although I tried not to talk personal. But one day she began to talk about an adult daughter with whom they do not communicate at all.

But I think I'll start from the beginning. When I arrived, Svetlana Fedorovna was sad and silent. This is not like her at all, she is usually cheerful and very active. I stopped by on the eve of the holidays, brought her some treats to the festive table. She thanked, even smiled, but it was clear that something was eating her.



We sat down to drink tea. She was silent for a long time and I didn’t want to ask questions. But then she said, "It's been two years, you know." Since then, no call, no message. I called, I wanted to congratulate you on coming. But apparently she even changed her number. I don’t even know the address now.



Afterwards, she paused briefly, as if determined to tell the story from the beginning. Then I exhaled noisily and began my story, which I would like to share with you.

You know, we had a happy family. My husband and I met young, but we decided not to hurry. He traveled a lot and his work allowed him. Well lived, nothing to say. We also worked a lot, we were able to buy an apartment, three-room. We’ve never been proud of it, but we loved our house.

My husband did everything here, he loved making. He dreamed all his life about how to buy an apartment, equip it with his wife, have children. That's what happened. He and I had a daughter. How much he loved her, words cannot tell. I thought there was no one happier in this world than me.



My husband left this world 10 years ago. It was difficult for both of us. What can I say, I still can't recover. I can't live without it, it's so empty. My daughter had drifted away from me. She wanted to live on her own, moved to an apartment. I did not stop, everyone needs to build their lives.



We talked to her, she came to visit. But two years ago, she came with an unexpected request. My daughter decided it was time for her to own an apartment. I wanted a mortgage. I told her right away that there was nothing to help me. After my husband left, little was left of our savings. He was sick for a long time, a lot of money was spent on treatment. My pension is small.

Then she asked me to change my apartment. Like, exchange for one with a surcharge. I have an apartment, and she has money for which she will take an apartment in a new building. I understand she wanted to find her corner. But I did not agree to such an exchange. No, I don't care about money. But the apartment... It reminds me of my husband. How can I sell it?



She told me that Dad did it all for her and that it was her inheritance. And then there is no doubt, I myself wanted her to live in this apartment, remember us. But she wouldn't even listen to my arguments. She started yelling at me, and then she got offended and left. Two years have passed since then, and she doesn’t come, she doesn’t call.

From our mutual friend I learned that she still took a mortgage, pays one. He works two jobs for that. No family, no children. How can she meet someone when she's always at work? I can't reach her now. I think she changed her number. She has not seen her for six months.

I'm worried my heart's out of place. But I don't know how to contact her, she doesn't want to see me. I'm not 20 years old, I'm going to be 70 soon. Did I hurt her that much?



After these words Svetlana Fedorovna for a long time fell silent and thought. Me too. I don’t know who I feel more sorry for, mother or daughter. One lives alone in his old age, the other works like a cursed woman and harbors resentment in his heart. It is difficult to say whether Svetlana Fedorovna did the right thing. On the one hand, it is a memory for her, and on the other, it would seem that the daughter would not be superfluous to help. What do you think?