З життя
Дитячі спогади: кожне ранкове 8 березня починалося зі стуку в двері та запитання
Коли ми з сестрою були маленькі, кожного ранку 8 березня починалося зі стуку в двері й запитання: «Дами, ви одягнені? Можна до вас увійти?»
Дівчата в ситцевих сорочках кричали у відповідь, що вони цілковито вдягнені, тож скоріше заходьте. Тим паче, що ми знаємо, що у вас там подаруночки!
До нашої кімнати заходив тато з двома букетами квітів і двома однаковими коробками, в яких лежали однакові ляльки.
Тато кілька разів намагався дарувати нам різні подарунки, але швидко зрозумів, що це не найкраще рішення: старшій доньці (тобто мені) здавалося, що її безбожно обділили, у Марічки лялька краща, більша і гарніша, а молодшій (це Марічка) завжди здавалося, що її взагалі недолюблюють, і спеціально обирають таких маленьких ляльок, щоб підкреслити її дитсадковий вік.
Переживши одну нашу потужну подвійну жіночу істерію — тато передчасно посивів, і з тих пір став дарувати нам виключно однакові подарунки.
І ми з Марічкою завжди були впевнені: 8 березня – це такий день, коли Головний Чоловік У Світі приходить зранку до тебе з квітами й коробками, і з чимось тебе вітає.
Що за свято таке 8 березня – це неважливо. Для нас це був день, коли приходив Головний Чоловік З Квітами І Подарунками.
Тоді тато був у нас єдиним чоловіком у нашому житті (дідусь ж не в рахунок — він же не чоловік, а старенький дідусь, як ви не розумієте?). Єдиним і Головним. Інших не було.
А потім пройшли роки.
І в мене, і в Марічки з’явилися інші Головні Чоловіки, які вранці 8 березня приносили нам квіти і подарунки. І якось так завжди виходило, що поспішили ми надати їм такий титул. Не дуже-то вони, врешті, чоловіками-то і виявилися. І вже тим більше, взагалі не Головними.
Титул знову повертався до нашого тата. Тато носив його гордо, звично, і не змінював традиції з однаковими коробочками. Проте, в тих коробочках вже могли лежати різні подарунки, але самі коробочки, чорт забирай, досі завжди однакові!
Потім у нас з Марічкою з’явилися сини. Єдині. По одному у кожної. Маленькі Головні Чоловіки. І, поки вони зростали, наш тато як і раніше виконував свої восьмимартовські обов’язки. Тому що — ну коли ж там заміна його підросте? А доньки ж чекають своїх квітів та коробочок.
Мій син виріс якось так дуже швидко. І я не встигла навіть помітити: а коли раптом так сталося, що він раптом став чиїмось ще Головним Чоловіком? І зранку 8 березня я отримую від нього лише телефонний дзвінок: «Мамочко, з святом тебе! Не хвилюйся, я у Марійки, повернуся в неділю».
Але!
Але цей дзвінок все одно слідує тільки після дзвінка тата, і питання: «Моя дама, ти одягнена? До візитів готова?»
…В житті кожної жінки повинні бути Чоловіки. Справжні. З великої літери. Чоловіки, сини, брати… Але Найголовнішим може бути тільки хтось один. Необов’язково це тато. Не у всіх же є тати. І брати. І сини. Але у кожної є той Самий Головний.
Той, з ким роками і десятиліттями починається ранок 8 березня.
У нас з Марічкою — це наш тато. Для якого ми від самого народження були і залишаємося Його Дамами.
Адже найголовніше для жінки – знати, що її дуже люблять.
Зі святом усіх нас, улюблені та люблячі.
І дякую за цей день нашим Найголовнішим Чоловікам.
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