З життя
Мачеха забрала меня из детдома: благодарна за любящую вторую маму
**10 сентября 2023 года**
Когда-то я думал, что жизнь закончилась. Но сейчас, глядя на наш шумный семейный ужин, понимаю: Бог послал мне не потерю, а испытание, за которым скрывался подарок.
Меня зовут Артём Соколов. Родился в тихом уральском городке – Краснотурьинске. Жили просто: папа, мама, я. Мама пекла блины по воскресеньям, отец чинил старый «Запорожец» во дворе. Но в семь лет маму забрала пневмония. Отец не смог – запил. В квартире остались одни пустые бутылки. Я ходил в школу в рваном свитере, с пустым желудком. Соседи донесли в опеку. Отца чуть не лишили прав, но он упал на колени: «Дайте срок». Чиновники ушли, пообещав проверить через месяц.
И отец… изменился. Бросил водку, купил мне новые ботинки, даже суп варил. Однажды сказал: «Сын, познакомлю с одной женщиной». Я сжался – неужели предаёт маму? Но он пояснил: «Она поможет нам». Так я встретил тётю Галину. У неё в старой хрущёвке пахло пирогами, а её сын Ваня сразу дал мне поиграть в «Танки» на приставке. Вернувшись, я буркнул отцу: «Нормальная тётя». Через месяц мы переехали к ней, а нашу квартиру сдали за пять тысяч рублей в месяц.
Галина оказалась золотой. В школу мне собирала бутерброды с колбасой, Ваня стал мне братаном. Но через полгода отца нашли мёртвым в подъезде – инфаркт. Опека забрала меня в приют под Нижним Тагилом. Я выл ночами в подушку. Но каждую субботу Галина приезжала с ватрушками и упрямо твердила: «Терпи, сынок, заберу».
И забрала. Помню, как директор приюта вдруг сказал: «Собирай вещи». На улице стояла Галина с Ваней. Я вцепился в неё, как в спасательный круг. «Мам…» – вырвалось само. Она расплакалась.
Сейчас мне 28. Работаю на заводе в Екатеринбурге, Ваня – сантехником. По выходным ездим к Галине в ту же хрущёвку. Она нянчит наших детей, ругается с нашими жёнами из-за рецепта оливье. Дом её трещит по швам, но в нём – вся моя жизнь.
Вывод прост: родня – не те, кто родил, а те, кто не бросил. Галина вытащила меня не из приюта – из бездны. И теперь, когда мой сын зовёт её «бабулей», я знаю: мама где-то там, на небесах, спокойна за меня. Спасибо, мам. Обеим.
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