З життя
Самотня бабуся з сумом спостерігає за дощовими струмками за вікном.
Бабуся Люба сиділа біля вікна, спостерігаючи за тим, як дощові потоки стікають по склу. Третій день дощить, небо плаче і не хоче заспокоїтися. Так само, як і моє життя, лише сльози, нічого доброго. Для чого жила? Для чого ходила по світу? Щоб терпіти? Нині я одна, зовсім одна, на всьому білому світі жодної рідної душі не залишилось.
Вчора знову потрапила у пастку. Дві молодиці завітали з подарунками, красиві слова говорили, а самі обібрали мене до копійки. Ну як тут не повірити, адже люди, а не безсовісні звірі. Хоч цілий життєвий шлях мені брехали, а я й досі вірю.
По щоках бабусі Люби покотилися сльози. Не щастило їй ні в житті, ні в родині. Чоловік пиячив, давно покинув цей світ. Сина ув’язнили, там і скінчився його шлях. Все життя віддала на завод, за копійки і грамоти. Я допомагала людям, а в підсумку лише обман і сльози.
Бабуся Люба підійшла до холодильника. Як би дожити до пенсії, ще ж цілих десять днів. І на хліб ані копійки. Позичити в сусідів? Та ні, ніколи не просила і не буду. Вона відчинила холодильник, де лежали два яйця, півпляшки молока та чверть хліба. Ні, сьогодні не їстиму, завтра з’їм, або одне яйце сьогодні, друге завтра. Краще обидва завтра.
Баба Люба знову сіла біля вікна. Подив її зупинився на сміттєвому контейнері. Ні, ніколи не піду туди, який сором. Що ж люди подумають… Краще вже лягти та й вмерти одразу.
Сльози самі собою текли по зморшках на обличчі. Хтось подзвонив у двері. Бабуся Люба пішла відчиняти.
— Іду, іду. Хто там? — витираючи сльози, запитала вона.
— Це я, Іван, бабусю Люба, — почувся глухий голос за дверима.
— Івасю, — відчинила двері з радістю бабуся, — Івасю мій приїхав!
Іван, колишній хлопчина-сусід, за яким вона доглядала, поки його батьки були зайняті. Багато років його залишали у бабусі Люби. Спочатку приводили, а потім він сам почав приходити, проводив багато часу з нею. Іван став їй, як рідний син. Коли ж виріс, поїхав далеко шукати щастя. І ось повернувся, одразу до бабусі Люби.
— Заходь, Івасику, заходь, — заметушилася бабуся Люба, — так порадував.
— А що це, плакала? — знімаючи куртку, запитує Іван.
— Ну що ти, Івасю… чого б мені плакати… задрімала я тут…
— Я тепер свою фірму до нашого міста перевожу, часто бачитись будемо. Та що з тобою, бабусю Любо? Знову сльози на обличчі.
Бабуся Люба похитнулася і сперлася рукою об стіну.
— Це від радості, Івасю, від радості. Голову щось закрутило.
Іван підхопив бабусю, посадив на стілець і прямим ходом пішов до холодильника.
— Тепер я бачу, від якої це радості у тебе голова крутиться, — почула вона невдоволений голос Івана.
Через пів години Іван приніс два пакети з продуктами і почав годувати бабусю Любу. Він підливав їй чай і розповідав про своє життя. Вона смущено посміхалася, дивлячись на стіл, вкритий продуктами, і крадькома витирала сльози. Ну звідки вони тільки беруться, ці сльози?
Так вони проговорили до пізнього вечора. Коли Іван зібрався йти, у бабусі Люби задрижали губи, і вона спробувала щось сказати.
— Що? Що, бабусю Люба? — запитав Іван.
— Сину, — прошепотіла бабуся.
— Бабусю Люба, — обійняв він її, — ніколи тепер не залишу тебе. Тепер я завжди буду поруч.
Іван пішов, а бабуся Люба сіла на своє улюблене місце біля вікна і знову заплакала. Тільки сльози вже були зовсім інші.
— А я вже, грішною справою, про людей погано стала думати, — говорить сама собі старенька. — Хіба можна про людей погано думати? Ось Івасик мій яким став. Гроші його зовсім не зіпсували. Як приїхав, одразу до мене. Не забув стареньку. Ближче Івасика нікого в мене нема. Наче рідного сина. І жити тепер знову хочеться…
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