З життя
Когда бабушка и дедушка были рядом, я считал их своей настоящей семьёй.
Пока жили мои бабушка с дедом, считал их главной семьёй.
Почему?
Мать вечно пропадала в хлопотах о матерях-одиночках — работала соцработником. Отец же, творческая душа, метался между театром, живописью да прочей ерундой, пока вовсе не сгинул в житейских волнах.
Любила ли она меня? Да, но порывисто, урывками. Раз в неделю примчится к нам в деревню, нагруженная продуктами да гостинцами. Обрушит на меня шквал жарких поцелуев, отобедает с дедом под рюмочку (бабка глаза в пол опустит, скатерть разглаживает), наболтает о делах — и снова исчезнет. На неделю, а то и дольше, если «завал» на работе.
А мы с «предками» продолжали жить размеренно: бабушкин огород, дедовы лесные вылазки, их бесконечные разговоры за вечерним самоваром о былом.
Бабка моя — статная, величавая. До седин коса густая, которую каждую субботу после бани расчёсывала полукруглым гребнем — ещё прабабкиным. Дед — сухопарый, весь в морщинах, будто кора старой сосны. Рубаха на нём всегда отглажена, хоть под воротник загляни — чистота!
«Мужики у нашей Марфы — чисты, как стеклышко!» — соседи говорили. Я потом в школе долго не мог понять: почему «вульца» вдруг стала «улицей»?
Кого любил больше? Да они для меня сливались в одно целое, пахнущее щами да махоркой, парным молоком и сеном.
Проснёшься утром — над тобой дедово лицо, словно икона в киоте. Губы шершавые шепчут:
«Вставай, Николаша! Баба Катя пирог с капустой испекла. А в лесу ёж нас ждёт — новую байку расскажет».
Целует в щёку мельком, щетиной колется. Я нытьё завожу:
«Не-е-ет, деда-а! Спать хочу… И пирог чтоб с вишней!»
«Щас исправим!» — кричит он в сторону кухни:
«Кать! Внук наш варенья захотел! Слышь?»
Из сеней бабушка выглядывает:
«Да уж настряпала, в вазочке малиновое! Живо за стол!»
Умываюсь под их присмотром. Бабка полотенце держит с вышитым зайцем (крестиком!), дед ворчит: «Давай-ка, сам утру!»
Завтракаем с дедом. Бабка вокруг крутится, подливает щи, подкладывает блины. Потом встаём, бурчим:
«Спасибо, мать…»
«Ага, баба…» — и на крыльцо покурить выходим.
Дед дымит, я рядом ёжусь, руки по-взрослому на коленки кладу.
«Ну что, жить будем?» — спрашивает.
Кивну, не сразу:
«Ага…»
Плюём на окурок синхронно (дед потом мне его под нос тычет — смеётся!), кричим в дом:
«Кать! Ничё не надо? В лес уходим!»
Из глубины доносится:
«Идите! Да грибов прихватите — ужин варить!»
Идём с корзинами (мою дед из лозы сплёл — миниатюрную). Он поясняет: почему у совы глаза круглые, почему отец сгинул, почему мать редко бывает, почему бабка краше всех в деревне, а он — «так себе» (сам так говорит).
К полудню возвращаемся — грибы, травы для чая, шишки для растопки. Бабка кормит нас, потом укладывает меня в сенях на лавке — «чтобы обед усвоился». Дед тулупом старым укрывает, сидит рядом, пока не прилетит Синяя Птица — спросит: «Николаша, бабу с дедом сегодня не расстроил?»
Честно в глаза ей смотрю… и просыпаюсь. А на столе — кружка молока с мёдом да каравай свежий.
Потом с дедом дрова колем, забор чиним. Бабка в огород идёт «бездельничать» — а возвращается с свёклой да укропом.
Сейчас я старше их тогдашних лет. Лежу после инфаркта в больнице, думаю: надо выкарабкаться. Чтобы кто-то помнил, как пахнет дым от печки, как шелестит берёза под окном, как звучит дедово: «Жить будем?»
My Thrifty Friends Invited Me to a Birthday Party—But I Went Home Hungry
My penny-pinching friends invited me to a birthday do. I returned home famished. I have a small group of mates...
My Children Are Well Provided For, I’ve a Little Nest Egg, and I’m About to Retire—A British Tale of Family, Friendship, and the Quiet Farewell of My Neighbour George
My children are well looked after, Ive a few pounds tucked away, and Ill soon be drawing my pension. A...
Step by Step, We Brought Water and Then Gas to My Aunt’s Home—Upgraded Every Convenience, Rebuilt Her Garden, and Then Found Her House Listed for Sale Online
Little by little, we managed to get water piped into her house, and eventually even had gas installed. After that,...
I Don’t Understand Why I Became His Wife We Recently Got Married—I’d Thought My Husband Was Madly in Love With Me, but Something Strange Happened That Made Me Question Everything. It Wasn’t Infidelity, but Something Much More Serious and Bizarre. I Think It Happened Because I Cared Too Much—I Worshipped Him, Loved Him Unconditionally, and Forgave Everything. He Got Used to That, Grew More Confident, and His Ego Ballooned. He Probably Started to Think Any Woman Would Crawl Before Him at the Snap of His Fingers, Even Though He’s Not Highly Regarded by Others… Anyone Else Wouldn’t Have Tolerated His Mistakes or Trusted Him Blindly. Just Before the Wedding, He Wanted to Be Alone, Take a Holiday, and “Prepare” for Married Life. There Was Nothing I Could Do, So I Accepted and Let Him Go. He Later Told Me He’d Gone Alone to the Mountains to Escape Civilization—No Internet, No Phone—Just to Admire Nature. Meanwhile, I Stayed Home, Missing Him So Much My Heart Ached. I Counted Every Moment Until He Came Back. A Week Later He Returned—The Happiest Day of My Life. I Welcomed Him With All the Warmth and Love I Had, Cooking His Favourite Dishes. Then, the Very Next Day, Something Odd Began. He Kept Dashing Out to the Hallway or Another Room. Soon, He’d Leave the House Several Times a Day for All Sorts of Reasons. One Day, While Heading to the Shops, I Found a Letter in the Mailbox. It Looked Ordinary. Addressed to Me, from Him, Sent While He Was Away. But Its Words Shook Me Deeply. He’d Written: “Hello. I don’t want to mislead you any longer. You’re not the right person for me. I don’t want to spend my life with you. There won’t be a wedding. I’m sorry—don’t look for me and don’t call me. I’m not coming back to you.” So Brief, So Blunt, So Cruel… Only Now Did I Realize He’d Been Rushing to Check the Mailbox All This Time. Silently, I destroyed the letter, saying nothing to him and letting him believe nothing had happened. But how can I stay with someone who doesn’t want to be with me? Why did he marry me and pretend everything was fine?
Im baffled as to why I became his wife. We only just got married. I genuinely believed that my husband...
After Telling My Wife That Her Daughter Isn’t My Responsibility, the Truth About Our Family Was Finally Revealed
After I told my wife that her daughter wasnt my responsibility, the truth about our family finally came to light....
“I Had to Get a Separate Fridge So Mum Would Stop Taking My Shopping” — says Anna. “It’s a ridiculous situation, but there’s no other way. I’m not against selling the flat and sharing the money, but she refuses”. Anna recently turned 24. She’s earned her university degree and found work, but hasn’t settled down yet. Living in her own home isn’t easy. Anna owns half of the flat. It used to belong to her father. She and her mother inherited equal shares when Anna was 14. Ten years ago, things were tough for the family—they lost their breadwinner. Anna’s mum quit her job when Anna was small, deciding against maternity leave because her husband earned well and they were comfortable. She focused on being a homemaker. After Anna’s father died, her mother sobbed, “Who’s going to hire a forty-year-old like me now? What, as a cleaner?” Anna continues: “I was getting a family pension, but Mum couldn’t resist trips to the salon and shopping, even though we were barely scraping by. Her brother helped at first, but then he’d had enough. My uncle told Ali (my mum) she’d have to find work. He has his own kids — he can’t support everyone. After about a year, Ali brought a new man home. His name was Derek. She announced he’d be living with us. Mum tried to solve the money problem by getting married again. Derek did earn good money, but he didn’t get along with me at all. Derek would say: ‘All you do is eat. You’d be better off with a load of laundry or cleaning. Why do you have to do homework? University? Forget it—you should work instead. Or do you think I’ll just keep feeding you?’ I couldn’t say anything. Yes, I was getting a pension, but Mum had control of the money. She never defended me from my stepdad. She was afraid of losing her breadwinner. ‘How will we cope without him?’ she asked me. ‘Don’t argue so much, just do what he says. He provides for the family.’ I made it to university and found a job. Even so, Derek thought of me as another mouth to feed and was always counting what he spent on me. “Six months after I started work, I could afford my own fridge,” Anna says. “I put it in my bedroom because Derek locked the kitchen fridge.” ‘You’ve got a job now? Feed yourself,’ Derek said. Ali fell silent again. Even when Derek showed me the utility bills and demanded I pay for everything he’d ever spent on me. Eventually, Derek lost his job. He and Mum began raiding my fridge. The bills all landed on me. At first, I paid. But Derek sat around unemployed for nearly a year. I’d had enough, so I put a padlock on my fridge. Of course, Mum objected, claiming Derek had kept us fed all this time. I said, ‘Help me out, if you want. I’m not the first one sharing everything in this house. Go get a job.’ Derek recently moved out. Mum’s had enough of a man who brings in no money. But I’m still not taking the padlock off my fridge. I believe Mum should work too. What do you think—is she right?
I had to bring in my own fridge just so Mum wouldnt keep taking my groceries. I had no choice...
You Simply Don’t Know What Happiness Is – A Story of Half a Million Pounds, a Mother-in-Law’s Interference, and Escaping a Controlling Marriage for a Second Chance at Love in London
You Just Dont Realise Your Own Luck Half a million? I read the notification on my phone three times before...
Husband Refuses to Give Apartment Inherited from His Aunt to Our Daughter, Sparking a Family Dispute Over Fairness to Our Sons and the Future of Our Children
My husband inherited a small flat in the heart of London from his aunt years ago. The flat isnt spacious,...