Every year I called my parents for their birthday, but they said they didn’t feel well, but for my brother they always had the strength and time.

What does generosity show? Human? For whom, really. A young and pretty girl, for example, might say that a generous person is someone who takes you to exotic islands, buys gifts, and demands nothing in return. Pensioners will call a generous deputy, giving before the choice not only a couple of kilograms of buckwheat, but also raw chicken in addition. The waiter will smile and boast of the generous tips left to him by some IT specialists.



To each his own, as they say. But seriously speaking, the breadth of the soul in ordinary life should manifest itself, probably, to the neighbor. That's first and foremost. Family, family, friends. Not strangers, strangers, who you only know for a few minutes, but who you want to impress. Sometimes such thoughts actually appear in those who are younger. But an adult personality will never make such a mistake.

The younger brother 5 years ago went to the capital, came here, a couple of days. Just don't think that if I call him junior, it's some young, unintelligent boy. Grown man, in a few months, 37 years will be. Not married and not going to. He has a friend, but he says it’s nothing serious. And he came home to visit his parents, to see people and show himself. That's what I thought at first.

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You know, they say that if a brother and a sister didn't get along as children, then they'll get along as adults? As an example, I can say that this statement is nothing more than another nonsense. We often argued with Maxim when we were students. Mostly because I've had to keep an eye on household chores, and he's in addition. It was as if his brother had not noticed it and acted like a petty scoundrel. Ignoring everything except my reflection in the mirror.

No wonder Mom and Dad had enough money for higher education. And it was Maximka who was released to the “big and cruel city”, not me. All I needed was a washing machine as a wedding dowry. Thanks for that, too. I live in a happy marriage with my beloved husband and two children. Anyway, all my ups and downs are my family’s problems and I have nothing to report to my parents. I'm proud of that, especially looking at my little brother.



After all, Maxim, despite the forces invested in him, never became a big man. Yeah, he works, rents a decent apartment. There's even some money, sort of. But he built his life in such a way that if something happens, the parachute will not be near. His girlfriend will leave him at a critical moment. And the job is that they get fired from time to time. I don't want to say that, but it really is. Like plants, humans must have strong and powerful roots. Otherwise, they will blow away at the first serious gust of wind.

But something else surprises me. By the time he arrived, I was a stranger to my parents. Too much. Judge for yourself: for my birthday, I invited my mom and dad to kebabs for the last four years, probably. Each time they came up with a reason not to come. There was something there that hurt, there was no time, and so on. But the beloved son came, and in an instant they turned into perfectly healthy people. We even went to meet him at the station. Is that normal?



Now, while Maxim lives with his parents, he does not hit a finger at all. They cook for him, go to the store, even the room was cleaned before the arrival of the son. I have never felt that way about myself, probably ever. As a child, I was the one who was forced to tear down the apartment. I had to cook from time to time, I had to be the perfect hostess. Now it is impossible to even imagine that I, a grown woman, was courted by my mother or father.

But for Maximka at least a star from the sky. I hope he's at least throwing money away for groceries. Otherwise, it would be completely dark. Although, when we met in a cafe for coffee, he rather freely and without shame offered me to share the check. Like, in the capital, that's what they do. I don’t even know what the conditions were for his parents.



And as the cherry on the cake, my brother told me something else. Like, in one of their conversations with their parents, the subject of inheritance came up. And it turned out that they had plans to leave the apartment after my brother. I'll have our dacha. Which is only an hour and a half drive from my house. Well, nothing new, though.

Not a new, but inhabited two-bedroom apartment, in which mom and dad live and a dacha with a rotten floor and barely living walls. Around which only fast-growing weeds, garbage and stray animals. How come I got this lottery ticket? It's simple. My mom and dad are very confident in my future. I have already given them grandchildren, and I have gone to another family. She changed her name, imagine.



But if Maxim needs to live in his native city, if nothing happens in the capital, then he can safely come to his native walls and live there without any problems. I wouldn’t even be surprised if my parents are going to start repairs now, and even they will demand money for this case. Is the eldest daughter a fifth wheel in a cart? Why am I being treated like this? I do not have enough strength to restrain myself, and I am tired of silence. Let's see what Mom and Dad say when I bring it up. Much will depend on their words in the future. Don't doubt me.