My parents inherited a lot of money and I asked them to help me, but they understood it in their own way. Bashny.Net

Everyone wants to live comfortably and comfortably. To have a house full of bowls. A car, preferably a few. And travel every six months, or even two. But if you don't richer If you are a sheikh, you will have to strive for this splendor only on your own. And the sooner you realize it, the better.



Peels No, parents can also help. Sitting with your grandchildren, giving some advice. Help them financially if they can. But nothing more. It is only in feature films that pensioners have the means to travel around the world. In reality, everything is much more prosaic. That's life.

The rich heir probably won't understand me, but just so you know, we villagers also have our own problems with our parents. Children living in rural areas know what physical labor is. From a young age, we knew how to milk a cow; we saw our mother kill chickens near a barn; we carried water from a well that takes more than an hour to reach. And when I was a kid, I had one big dream: a big package of colorful gum, like a TV commercial.



But the kids grow up and the problems get bigger. After celebrating my twenties, I decided to leave to live separately. I was fed up with the village life, and all my friends advised me to go to the city. That's what I did. Mom and Dad gave me some money, helped me pack my bag and blessed me. He said he would always wait for me to come back.

Don't worry, I lived in a nice big house that my grandfather and my father built before moving. We didn’t consider ourselves a rich family, but neither did we beg. Strong middle class. But this is not a reason to sit in one place for the rest of your life. In any case, four years have passed since then, and my attitude towards my parents has deteriorated considerably. I'll try to tell you why.

So, coming to the city and folding the parental money with my earned in the village, I received an amount that would be enough for 3 months of renting an apartment where I decided to settle. One-room panel near the station. Nothing remarkable. I immediately started looking for a job and soon got a job as a waitress in a small cafe.



It didn’t go right away, because I had to start from scratch: learn the positions of dishes and drinks, their prices, the internal rules of the institution. Be always warm and ready with a smile on your face to listen to any client, even in pre-comatose from all previously drunk. But I was young and I really wanted to hook up. So work was going on.

Six months later, I started dating a young man and moved in with him. The novel did not last long, and six months later I was again in my rented apartment, the payment of which the landlords managed to raise during my absence. Hello, adult life.

All this time I kept in touch with my parents. She told them about her news, successes and failures. I have often said that the only thing missing is my own home. At least a small one, no repairs. But my own, so as not to pay a disgraceful rent, robbing me of all my free money.



But the parents kept pretending they didn’t understand. I was sure they had the money. But they stubbornly asked me to move home. Where there was fresh air, many relatives and acquaintances. And the lack of prospects, infrastructure and normal roads. Not that I can drive. But I don’t like to go out in new shoes and wear them after 2 days.

And yet the deepest resentment, right in my heart, was inflicted on me by my beloved mother and father after receiving an inheritance from some half-forgotten relative. A second cousin or so on, the grandmother introduced herself at the 93rd year of life. In Canada. And left $19,000 behind. Not Canadian, but American. But she had no relatives at home, so their bailiffs came to our family. That's news, isn't it?



I didn't find out about all this until a month later. The parents called and briefly described the situation. The next day, I went to my home village to beg my mom and dad to give me the money to buy my corner in the nearby concrete jungle. Because by that time, apartment bills were starting to make me nervous.

But instead, I saw an excavated pit near our house. My parents understood my requests in their own way. They decided I just didn't want to live in the same house with them. Well, let him. Now, in their opinion, I will not interfere with living separately, 50 meters from our family home. So what, in the village, not in the city? But mom and dad are next, and the gas promised soon.



I walked away from what I saw for a few days. It must have been some kind of nervous breakdown. I was nauseating and had a headache. But there was no strength to scream. I went to my apartment and asked my parents for something. Visiting once every six months, yes. To celebrate someone’s birthday, please. But no more requests from me or them.

Adult chicks should fly away from their nest. That's how nature works, and I finally understand that.