Nothing I fear more than the time when my parents are gone.

Support for parents It is very important, especially for a child who understands what he wants from life. Self-sufficiency is certainly a significant factor. But we live in a modern society, where the assistance of mother and father will be only a plus. This and help in learning, education, the formation of the inner “I”.



The main thing is to keep the balance. For example, the mother always tries to help her child, even in those matters where it is absolutely not required. The father often tries to be removed. Behavior patterns vary, but statistically it all comes down to that. Education is not always easy or obvious.

As a child, everyone predicted my gymnast’s sports career. I was not bad for my age, my grandfather gave me developed muscles, broad shoulders, narrow pelvis. Yes, I myself liked active games, fresh air, bicycle, skates. In short, my classmates never had any complaints about me.



However, in order not to maintain the stereotype of a stupid ambal, I tried to learn. The exact sciences were difficult, but the humanities like drawing or literature did not raise my average score so much. The physicist tore his hair, but could do nothing: his subject was considered one of the most unclaimed in school. And what to do, even if the gym was in poor condition.

In class three, my family and I went to Grandma's for the first time all summer. Or rather, we came together for a few days, I stayed, and they went to the city. I did not particularly protest, because, first of all, it is clear that I could not influence the situation in any way. And secondly, the village is a whole new world for the urban child.



The local guys noticed me right away. While I was helping my grandmother choreograph, they were always away and seemed to ignore me. But exactly at the moment when I stayed on the street myself, they came up and asked directly who I was, where I was from and what I was doing here. I'm sure things are different for modern children. But in our time, such orders were not at all surprising.

In short, at the end of the first week, I came to my grandmother’s house with a bruise under my eye. The scream was... But I wasn't worried. I was amazed that the weakest of the company was not afraid to come to me and start a fight. No one supported him, it was not an all-on-one fight. They even wanted to separate us first. But how did I, above his head and physically stronger, manage to lose?

As time passed, I finally got to know the local kids. It turned out they weren't so bad, even Mitya, who attacked me with his fists. After 3 weeks, we were real friends. I was shown where the most delicious apples grow, where to go to “whistle” non-working batteries full of lead, and why an old battery can still come in handy (it has a special rod that you can write and draw like small).



On my grandmother’s harch and active life, I became stronger, heavier and began to look at myself almost as an adult. Our friendship didn’t end after I left. The following summer, I was left at my grandmother’s again, and the guys accepted me as if nothing had happened. It was a great time.

But when I got to 6th grade, I think, my parents wanted to stay in town for the summer. As I was later told to an adult, for that season they could not go abroad to earn money. I didn't know why they brought me to Grandma's. Fresh air, of course, is great. But homes are homes...



And I wanted to go to the village on my own. The only problem was that you had to get on the train, then walk a couple of kilometers and buy a ticket from the bus driver. Tell him exactly where I need to go and hope I didn't mess it up. There was no talk of a ride-hailing option. There was a time when a rural bus broke down on the road.

Before the trip, my mother only persuaded me to think, and my father double-checked me 10 times, whether I remember all his instructions: what train number, stop, what the name of the bus driver and so on. Naturally, I answered all the necessary questions clearly and vividly. Already at the door I was handed a paper package and the last instruction. “If you don’t feel well on the road or forget something, just turn it around, I think it will help you.”



What my mom's sandwiches can do for me, I never understood. But already in the carriage with unknown people it was not so significant. Sometime in the evening at a stop in the car came not very sober company of young people, 25 years old. They sang songs, they were a little wild, and they were screaming very loudly. And that's when I got really tense. Again, times were different.

I didn't want to eat at all. But on some whim, I remembered about the bag with sandwiches and to at least somehow occupy myself, I began to unfold it. A familiar smell of butter and sausage loaf struck the face. But there was something else. A note in my father's handwriting. “Don’t worry, Andrew, I’m in the next carriage. Come if it gets boring.”

And, you know, the hand. Then my father and I drove together. He put me on the right bus and I went to see my grandmother and village friends. I remember this trip for the rest of my life.



I now live and work abroad. I try to send money to my parents every month. I never went to sports. I didn’t need my humanitarian knowledge either. The country began to develop in the direction of business, I also went there. I still love and appreciate my mom and dad.

I hope that for my children I will also become the same father who will give them the freedom to do their own thing, but will always be able to come to the rescue in case of something. Thank you, my dear old people!