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«Покинутий, але не самотній: як бабуся замінює мені батьків вже 26 років»
Відкинутий, але не самотній: як бабуся замінює мені батьків вже 26 років
Батьки є, але їх немає
Буде неправдою сказати, що у мене немає родини. Батько і мати живі, у них своє життя, десь далеко від мене. Можливо, вони щасливі, будують кар’єру, подорожують, ймовірно, навіть кохають одне одного. Може, зраджують, а може, терплять одне одного лише з звички. Я не знаю.
Знаю лише одне – відколи себе пам’ятаю, поруч зі мною була тільки бабуся.
Усі її звуть Марією Іванівною, але для мене вона просто – бабуся Маша.
Вона взяла мене, коли мені було всього шість місяців. Мама перестала годувати мене грудним молоком, і з тих пір про мене піклувалася лише вона. Мені тепер 26, а бабуся досі поруч.
Сказати, що я її люблю – нічого не сказати. Вона не просто моя родина, вона мій друг, мій порадник, моя єдина справжня людина. Я можу сидіти з нею на кухні до пізньої ночі, мовчки палити, говорити про все або ні про що, а інколи – просто наливати собі горілку, коли душа болить.
Бабуся – єдине, за що я вдячний долі.
Вона навчила мене всьому
Бабуся Маша не балувала мене, але й суворою не була. Вона знала, що я повинен вміти жити сам.
Вона навчила мене пришивати ґудзики, штопати шкарпетки, підшивати джинси. Я вмію варити супи, пекти пироги, смажити картоплю і навіть готувати обіди на газовій плиті, коли вимикають світло.
Вона навчила мене не плакати. Якщо холодно – значить, час утеплюватися. Якщо немає грошей – значить, потрібно шукати вихід. Якщо хтось пішов з твого життя – значить, це не твоє.
Але найбільше вона навчила мене любити книги.
На кожне свято – чи то день народження, Новий рік або просто хороший день – вона дарувала мені книгу. З часом у мене назбиралася ціла книжкова шафа, і хоча сьогодні всі читають електронні книги, я досі люблю запах паперу. Це запах справжнього світу, живого.
Бабуся навчила мене, як має пахнути дім.
Справжній дім пахне свіжоспеченим хлібом, молоком, корицею.
Справжній дім – це коли на тебе чекають.
Мої друзі після школи приходили в порожні квартири, їли холодну їжу з холодильника і робили уроки на самоті. А я приходив додому, де завжди було тепло, де на плиті стояв гарячий борщ, а бабуся сиділа біля вікна і чекала мене.
Я вдячний за це.
Моя мрія
Я завжди мріяв про одне – відкрити свою невелику книжкову крамницю.
Я її уявляю в усіх деталях: дерев’яні полиці, затишні крісла, аромат кави і свіжої випічки. Люди приходитимуть, сідатимуть, гортаючи книги, пити чай або какао.
Я поставлю кілька столиків, готуватиму для своїх гостей найсмачніші пироги за бабусиними рецептами.
Я знаю, що у мене все вийде.
Тому що бабуся завжди казала мені: «Головне – робити все з душею».
Вона щаслива, що я закінчив університет, знайшов хорошу роботу. Я викладач – навчаю дітей, ділюся з ними знаннями, але сам мрію про інше.
Бабуся мріє бачити мене одруженим, з дітьми. Вона хоче пестити правнуків, як колись пестила мене.
Але спершу – моя мрія.
Я не сказав бабусі, але нещодавно дізнався: мій батько продав спадкову землю, забрав свою частку і не дав мені ані копійки.
Але його брат – мій дядько, людина із золотими руками – пообіцяв допомогти. Він хоче вкласти гроші у мою книжкову крамницю, допомогти з ремонтом, з меблями.
Бабуся завжди сприймала його як рідного сина. Можливо, тому він і погодився допомогти мені.
Я хочу зробити її щасливою.
Я хочу, щоб вона пишалась мною.
Щоб, заходячи в мою книжкову лавку, вона могла сказати: «Це зробив мій внук».
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