З життя
Залишилася на самоті та стала тягарем для дитини у 70 років
Здається, мені сімдесят років. Я самотня, як дорожній стовп. Я стала тягарем для власної доньки.
— Доню, приїдь увечері… Благаю тебе, без тебе мені не впоратися.
— Мамо, я завалена роботою! Втомилася вже від твого скиглення. Гаразд, приїду…
Я не витримала — заридала. Боляче, нестерпно боляче. І тут же перед очима виникли безсонні ночі, довгі роки, коли я сама тягла весь тягар, щоб виростити її, мою Олену. Я віддала їй усе життя. Хіба це вдячність?
Можливо, я сама винна. Занадто її пестила, занадто багато дозволяла. А коли їй було одинадцять, я зустріла чоловіка… вперше за довгі роки відчула, що теж можу бути жінкою, коханою, бажаною. Але Олена влаштувала такий скандал, що мені довелося розірвати ті стосунки, хоча серце розривалося.
Тепер мені сімдесят. І я сама. Зовсім сама. У мене купа хвороб, я ледве пересуваюся. А моя єдина донька… вже двадцять років як заміжня, і, схоже, їй легше робити вигляд, що у неї взагалі немає матері. Так, у неї троє дітей — мої онуки. Але бачу я їх лише на фотографіях. Чому? Навіть не знаю…
— Ну, що цього разу трапилося? — обірвала Олена, увійшовши в хату.
— Мені призначили уколы. Ти ж медсестра, допоможеш…
— Що, я тепер маю кожен день сюди мотатися? Мамо, ти жартуєш?!
— Оленко, я не можу вийти на вулицю — тротуари в ожеледиці…
— А платити мені будеш? Я ж не на благодійності! Безкоштовно кататися не збираюся!
— У мене немає грошей…
— Ну тоді бувай, мамо. Звертайся до когось іншого!
Вранці я вийшла з дому за дві години до прийому, щоб дотягти до поліклініки. Повільно йшла вздовж дороги, важко дихаючи й витираючи сльози. Ніколи не думала, що доживу до такого…
— Жінко, проходьте без черги, будь ласка… Вам погано? Ви плачете?
Це була молода жінка з добрими очима. Вона зупинилася поруч, поклала руку мені на плече.
— Ні, донечко, я плачу зовсім з іншої причини…
Так ми й розбалакалися. Я, як на сповіді, вилила їй душу. Бо більше не було з ким поговорити. Її звали Наталка. Виявилося, вона живе всього у двох будинках від мене. Після тієї зустрічі вона почала часто приходити в гості, приносила продукти, допомагала по господарству.
А на день народження прийшла лише вона. Тільки Наталка.
— Я не могла не привітати вас у такий день. Ви дуже нагадуєте мені мою маму… Так тепло стає на душі, коли я поряд з вами, — сказала вона, обіймаючи мене.
І тоді я зрозуміла — вона стала мені ріднішою, ніж власна донька. Ми гуляли, разом їздили за місто, святкували свята. Вона піклувалася про мене, як рідна.
Довго думала, але все ж таки наважилася — я переписала хату на Наталку. Вона спочатку навіть не хотіла, намагалася відмовитися. Але я наполягла. Це була моя подяка за тепло, яке вона мені дарувала. Я знала — вона не з тих, хто робить добро заради вигоди.
З часом вона забрала мене до себе — мені вже було важко жити самій. Мою хату ми продали. Щоб потім Олена не судилася з Наталкою, не влаштовувала розборок.
І знаєте, донька згадала про мене лише через рік. Прийшла з образами й погрозами. Вона кричала, що я зрадниця, що бажає мені смерті. Мабуть, сподівалася на хату, а я «розчарувала» її. Тоді чоловік Наталки встав біля дверей і тихо, але твердо сказав:
— Ідіть. І більше сюди не приходьте. Вам тут не раді.
Ось так… Чужі люди виявилися ближчими, ніж рідна дитина. І боляче, і соромно, і страшно від того, як легко губиться людське. Але якби мені знову дали вибрати, я б знову вибрала Наталку. Бо вона — моя родина. Справжня.
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A Grandson’s Request: An Uplifting Story “Gran, I need to ask you something—it’s really important. I need a lot of money.” He arrived in the evening—nervous, restless. Normally, Daniel popped round to see Lilian twice a week, happy to fetch her groceries or pop out the bins. Once, he even fixed her old sofa. Always calm, always confident—never like this. Lilian always worried—it was a strange world out there. “Daniel, love, can I ask—why do you need the money? And how much is ‘a lot’?” Her voice was steady, but her heart thumped. Daniel was her eldest grandson—a good lad, kind at heart. He’d finished school a year ago, working part-time while studying. His parents hadn’t voiced any concerns, but why would he need so much cash? “I can’t say yet, Gran, but I promise I’ll pay you back—just not all at once…” “You know I’m only on my pension,” said Lilian, torn, “How much exactly?” “One thousand pounds.” “Why not ask your parents?” Lilian asked absently, already guessing his answer. Daniel’s dad—her son-in-law—was strict, expected children to solve their own problems and not stick their noses where they didn’t belong. “They wouldn’t help,” Daniel replied, confirming her thoughts with a sigh. Had he got mixed up in something serious? Would giving him the money only make it worse? But what if not giving it made things even harder? She studied him with concern. “Gran, it’s nothing bad, I swear. I’ll pay you back in three months—promise! Don’t you trust me?” She probably should lend it, even if he never returned it. There ought to be someone in his life who has his back; someone he can trust—so he never loses faith in people. She did have that money set aside for emergencies. Perhaps this was the one. After all, Daniel had come to her. Funerals could wait—life was for the living. It’s family—family you must trust. They say if you lend money, be prepared to lose it. The young can be unpredictable… but Daniel had never let her down. “All right, I’ll lend you the money for three months, as you said. But wouldn’t it be better for your parents to know?” “Gran, you know I love you, and I always keep my promises. If you can’t help I’ll try to get a loan—after all, I do work.” The next day, Lilian went to the bank, withdrew the money and handed it to Daniel. He beamed, gave her a grateful hug, and dashed off: “Thank you, Gran, you’re the best. I’ll pay you back—I promise!” Lilian returned home, brewed herself a cup of tea, and pondered. So many times in her life she’d desperately needed help. Every time, someone came through. But now, these days, everyone looked out for themselves. Times were tough. A week later, Daniel popped in again, cheerful. “Gran, here’s the first bit back—I got an advance at work. Oh, and can I bring a friend round tomorrow?” “Of course, love. I’ll bake your favourite—poppyseed cake.” She smiled, relieved—whatever it was, she’d soon know. Daniel came that evening. Not alone. A slender young woman stood by his side. “Gran, this is Lisa. Lisa, meet my lovely Gran, Lilian.” Lisa blushed, “Hello, thank you so much, Mrs Taylor!” “Come in, both of you,” Lilian relaxed—they seemed good together. They sat and chatted over tea and cake. “Gran, I couldn’t tell you before. Lisa’s mum became suddenly very ill; there was no one else to help and Lisa was so worried—she made me promise not to explain why I needed the money. But it’s over now—her mum’s had the operation. The doctors say she’ll recover.” Daniel looked at Lisa, squeezing her hand. “Thank you—you’re so kind. I can’t thank you enough,” Lisa said, turning away to hide her tears. “I told you, everything’s all right, don’t cry,” Daniel smiled, “Come on, Gran, we’d better be off—getting late.” “Take care, dears, goodnight—may everything work out for you.” As they left, Lilian crossed herself (old habits die hard). Her grandson had grown up—a solid young man. She was glad she trusted him. It wasn’t really about the money; it brought them closer. Two months on, Daniel repaid her in full. “Just think, Gran. The doctor said if we hadn’t acted so quickly, it could have ended much worse. I didn’t know how I could help Lisa. I realise now—there’s always someone willing to step up when things are hard. And I’ll always look after you, Gran—you’re the best in the world!” Lilian ruffled his hair, as she had when he was little. “All right, off you go—and bring Lisa round soon!” “Of course,” Daniel grinned, hugging her. As she closed the door, Lilian remembered what her own gran used to say: “You must always look after your own. It’s the English way—never turn your back on family. Remember that!”
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