З життя
Серед ночі чоловік штовхнув Галину: “Перестань хропіти, дістала!
Всю ніч Ганна майже не спала. О другій ночі чоловік штовхнув її ліктем у ребро, сказавши: “Перестань хропіти, вже дістала!” Хоча дійсно, коли Ганна спала на спині, могла трохи посапувати, але раніше чоловік обережно повертав її на бік. Тепер же, сердячись, грубо її пхає. Він легко засинає знову, а вона до ранку не може знайти спокою навіть з заспокійливими.
Ганна з Віталієм одружені вже 27 років. Два роки тому була срібна річниця, яку вони не відзначали. Віталій про це забув, бо був зайнятий новим автомобілем, якого щойно купив, бачачи у ньому все своє щастя. Старим авто тепер користується син.
По правді кажучи, збирали вони на квартиру синові, у нього вже з’явилася дівчина. Але… Віталій з сином вирішили придбати авто, адже їх вартість швидко зростає, а син з дівчиною наразі можуть жити в його кімнаті. Ганну навіть не запитали, хоча більшість грошей дала вона, заробляючи більше за чоловіка.
Після купівлі авто Ганна почала відкладати гроші на свій рахунок, а не спільний, як раніше. Віталій спочатку образився. Але зрозумів, коли Ганна пояснила, що більше не довіряє їм свої заощадження.
Ганна має вищу освіту. Разом з подругою Наталею вона виїхала з маленького містечка до обласного центру, аби вступити до педагогічного університету. Дівчата без труднощів вступили і успішно його закінчили.
Наталя пропрацювала в школі лише рік, після чого пішла вчитися на перукаря, пройшла практику в Києві у відомого майстра і відкрила свою перукарню. У неї були заможні батьки.
Ганна залишилася в школі ще на якийсь час. Вона працювала перший рік, коли познайомилася з Віталієм під час екскурсії для учнів у промислово-металургійному училищі. Віталій був майстром виробничого навчання. Його молодість, зріст і харизма вразили Ганну. Майстер так цікаво розповідав про професію зварника, що молода вчителька заслухалася.
“Я й не думала, що про таку звичайну професію можна так цікаво розповісти,” – сказала вона після екскурсії.
Віталію теж сподобалася молода вчителька. Вони почали зустрічатися, а через півроку побралися. Сім’я Віталія жила в трикімнатній квартирі, і він був єдиною дитиною. Батько його рано помер.
Згодом свекруха вирішила, що виконала свій обов’язок і переїхала до Миколаївської області, де познайомилася з чоловіком, який зробив їй пропозицію. Квартира залишилася у спадок сім’ї Віталія.
Мама Ганни змалку навчала дочку утримувати дім в ідеальному стані, оберігаючи зусилля від очей чоловіка. Ганна старалася: вставала о п’ятій ранку, готувала їжу, приводила до ладу дім, доки вона приходила з роботи раніше чоловіка.
У 24 роки в Ганни народився син Олександр. Перший час вона вдома сиділа з дитиною, бо чоловік заробляв небагато, а матеріальна допомога на дитину була скромною.
Якось Наталя прийшла до неї з подарунком для сина. Ганна запитала, чи не може вона позичити грошей до зарплати чоловіка. Наталя погодилася і запропонувала Ганні приєднатися до роботи в її перукарні ввечері, адже Юлія, майстер манікюру, могла показати їй роботу. Так Ганна почала вчитися.
Ганна виявилася старанною ученицею. Вона почала займатися манікюром, а згодом і педикюром. Винайнявши кабінет, почала працювати з вечора до пізньої ночі. Віктор залишався з сином. Клієнти швидко знайшлися, і в школу Ганна не повернулася.
Почалося краще життя. Віталію така ситуація підходила, він продовжував працювати там само. Вони купили авто, відремонтували квартиру, їхали відпочивати на море. Ганна ж їздила з ними рідко, бо влітку в роботи був найбільший попит. Тоді Віталій особливо цінував її.
Через шість років у них народилася дочка Інна. Ганна не могла залишити роботу, боялася втратити клієнтів. Вона найняла няню і продовжувала працювати вдень, коли згодом син пішов до школи.
Після народження дочки час для Ганни летів швидко: діти росли, збільшувалися витрати. А Ганна лише працювала і працювала, рідко виїжджаючи додому та інколи навідуючи матір.
От вже й Олександру 24 роки, Інні – 18. Олександр закінчив юридичний факультет, але його зарплата була скромною. Інна вчиться у технологічному коледжі. Олександр привів до дому свою дівчину Аню. Вона вже рік живе з ними, але тримається осторонь, швидко замикаючись в своїй кімнаті.
Одного дня Ганна усвідомила, що вже давно в них немає дружної родини, де б всі були єдиним цілим. Вони стали чужими щодо одного одного, наче сусіди в комунальній квартирі.
Чоловік часто зриває свою злість на ній, і Ганна намагається його не чіпати. Син з дівчиною сидять за зачиненими дверима, не впускаючи її. Одного разу Ганна вирішила прибрати в їхній кімнаті, але потім залишила це, нехай живуть, як хочуть.
Інна теж не бажає слухатися в питаннях прибирання. “Облиш мене з порядком, вже набридла!” – відповідає вона матері грубістю. Мати не витримує і сама наводить порядок.
Ганна попросила Аню вранці допомогти з посудом в посудомийці, але у відповідь почула: “Я не наймалась до вас домпрацею,” – і двері зачинилися.
…Ганна теж не заснула після штовхання чоловіка. Підіймаючись о п’ятій ранку, вона приготувала сніданок, почала готувати вечерю. З відчуттям обурення на душу, вона намагалася зрозуміти, як стала для чоловіка і дітей прислугою? Як вони перестали бачити в ній матір і дружину?
Коли всі прокинулися і снідали, дякуючи ніхто не сказав. Віталій пішов на роботу першим, за ним – Інна, яка залишила блузку зі словами: “Мені потрібна ввечері, терміново випери!”
Аню накладала макіяж у своїй кімнаті, а син звернувся до матері з проханням: “Не доручай “Ані зайвих справ, вона вчора плакала від образ. Я перестану вважати тебе матір’ю, якщо будеш її ображати, пам’ятай!”
Коли всі розійшлися, Ганна, яка мала виходити на роботу о 10, взяла телефон і скасувала всі записані за місяць наперед зустрічі. Зібравши всі інструменти і матеріали, вона звільнилася з орендованого місця.
Повернувшись додому, вона зібрала речі, документи і на холодильник залишила записку: “Дорогі, я зрозуміла, що не потрібна вам ні як мати, ні як дружина, а бути служницею більше не хочу. Сподіваюсь, вам буде краще без мене.” Викликала таксі і поїхала на вокзал.
Мати була здивована, коли побачила Ганну на порозі: “Ганно, ти знала, що я захворіла? Боялась відривати тебе від роботи, знайшла б час” – сказала вона. “Мамо, я житиму з тобою трохи, я загубила себе, відчуваю себе виснаженою,” – відповіла Ганна, обіймаючи матір і плачучи.
Ганна сподівалася, що чоловік проситиме її повернутися, що діти перепросять… Та чоловік навіть не зателефонував. Натомість Інна запитала: “Як ти могла поїхати, не виправши мою блузку?”
Ганна вже п’ять місяців живе з матір’ю. Знімає маленьке приміщення і знову займатися своїми справами. Її дохід зменшився, але й витрати також. Наталя зателефонує, підтримуючи її.
Віталій швидко пішов жити до колеги, з якою мав стосунки кілька років. Інна ж привела додому свого друга: “Якщо Олександру можна, чому мені не можна?” Батько давав їй гроші, але дівчині завжди було мало, і вона частенько благала ще.
Ганна хвилюється за дітей, але розуміє, що вже все, їх вже вважають дорослими і не потребують її, навіть не дзвонять. Зрада Віталія її здивувала. Вона так багато працювала, що не помітила, як він охолонув.
Ганна подала на розлучення, їй важко і боляче, адже в 50 років вона залишається сам-на-сам, без родини, якій віддала 27 років свого життя. І найприкріше, що сама у всьому винна.
Жінка не повинна розчинятися у сім’ї повністю. Сім’я цього не цінує, і миють нею ноги. Ось така історія…
“We Sold You the House—But We Have the Right to Stay for a Week,” the Owners Claimed. In 1975, We Moved from the Countryside to the Edge of Town, Bought a House, and Got Quite a Shock… Back in the village, neighbours always lent a helping hand—my parents were no different. So, when the previous owners of our new home asked if they could stay a couple more weeks while sorting out paperwork, my parents agreed. But these folks owned an enormous, vicious dog—one they didn’t want to take with them, as he never listened to us. To this day, I remember that dog. A week went by, then two, then three—yet the former owners still lived in OUR house! They slept through to dinnertime, rarely left, and showed no intention of moving. Worst of all was their attitude—they acted as though they still owned the place, especially the mother. Time and again, my parents reminded them of the deal, but their “move-out” date kept shifting. Meanwhile, they let their dog roam, never minding where he did his business—right in our garden. We were afraid to go outside; the dog attacked everyone. Over and over, my parents pleaded: keep the dog on a lead! But as soon as my father left for work and my brother and sister went to school, the dog was immediately back in the garden. In the end, it was the dog who helped my father get rid of these cheeky squatters. One day, my sister came home from school, opening the garden gate unthinkingly. The big black brute knocked her down—miraculously, she wasn’t badly hurt, just her coat ripped. They chained up the dog, then blamed my little sister for coming home too early. And that evening, all hell broke loose! Dad came back from work, and—without even taking off his coat—dragged the old lady right out into the street, still in her house dress, with her daughter and husband running behind. Every belonging of these bold squatters flew over the fence into the mud and puddles. They tried to set their dog on my dad, but the dog, seeing the chaos, tucked his tail and hid in his kennel. He wasn’t about to leave. An hour later, every last thing they owned was on the pavement, the gate was locked, and their dog sat outside with them, shut out for good.
Weve sold you the house. Were entitled to stay for a week, declared the former owners. It was 1975, and...
For about a year, my son had been living with Kate, but we’d never met her parents – it struck me as odd, so I decided to investigate I’ve always tried to raise my son to respect women first and foremost – his grandmother, his mother, his wife, his daughter. In my opinion, that’s the greatest quality a man can have: respect for women. My husband and I gave our son a wonderful upbringing and education and made sure he had everything he needed to get through life with ease. We didn’t want to help him with anything else, but we still bought him a two-bedroom flat. He did work to support himself, but he couldn’t quite afford a place of his own. We didn’t give him the flat right away, in fact, we didn’t even tell him we’d bought it. And why? Because our son was living with his girlfriend – that’s why. For about a year, he’d been living with Kate, but we’d never met her parents and I always found that strange. Later, I discovered that Kate’s mum used to be a neighbour of one of my friends. She told me something that really unsettled me. It turned out, Kate’s mother threw her husband out when he started earning less, but the real madness started after… She began seeing a married – but wealthy – man. Kate’s grandmother, just like her daughter, also had a relationship with a married man. She would even force both her daughter and granddaughter to trek out to his country house to help on his farm. Because of this, my son already found himself tangled up in his future mother-in-law’s affairs. But what concerns me most is that Kate’s mother and grandmother are turning her against her father. It’s clear the girl cares for her dad, but these two women have put her relationship with him in jeopardy. And to top it all off, Kate has decided to drop out of university. She believes it’s a man’s job to look after the family. I agree to some extent, and I raised my son for that, but heaven forbid they face any real life problems. What sort of safety net will there be if something goes wrong? How would she support her husband if that happened? By the way, I’ve put the flat back in my own name, because I know I’ve raised a bit of a soft touch, as we say. Yes, property bought before marriage isn’t divided after a divorce, but Kate is such a clever woman, she could very well send my “gentleman” packing with nothing but his socks.
So, listen, for about a year now my sons been living with this girl, Emily, but wed never met her...
– Needless to Say, This Is All My Fault! – My Boyfriend’s Sister Sobs. – I Never Imagined Something Like This Could Happen! And Now I Have No Idea What to Do Next. I Don’t Even Know How to Handle This Without Losing Face. My Boyfriend’s Sister Got Married a Few Years Ago. After the Wedding, It Was Decided the Newlyweds Would Live with the Husband’s Mother. His Parents Have a Spacious Three-Bedroom Flat and Only One Son. – I’ll Keep One Room, and the Rest Is Yours! – Promised the Mother-in-Law. – We’re All Well-Mannered People, So I’m Sure We’ll Get Along Just Fine. – We Can Always Move Out! – The Husband Assured His Wife. – I Don’t See Anything Wrong in Trying to Live with My Mum. If It Doesn’t Work, We Can Always Get Our Own Place…. That’s Exactly What Happened. As It Turned Out, Living Together Was Quite the Challenge. Both Daughter-in-Law and Mother-in-Law Tried, but Things Got Worse Each Day. Resentments Built Up and Arguments Became More Frequent. – You Said If We Couldn’t Get Along, We’d Move Out! – Cried the Wife. – Well, Haven’t We Managed So Far? – His Mother Smiled Condescendingly. – These Are Little Things, and It’s Not Worth Packing Up and Leaving Over Them. Exactly a Year After the Wedding, His Wife Became Pregnant and Gave Birth to a Healthy Son. The Arrival of the Grandchild Coincided with the Mother-in-Law Quitting Her Old Job and Struggling to Find New Work, as Employers Hesitated to Hire Someone Approaching Retirement. The Daughter-in-Law and Mother-in-Law Had to Spend All Day Together, Neither Having Anywhere Else to Go, and Tensions at Home Only Grew. Her Husband Simply Shrugged and Listened to Their Complaints, as He Was the Sole Breadwinner. – We Can’t Just Leave Mum Right Now—She Has No Income. I Can’t Leave Her on Her Own, and I Can’t Afford to Support Her and Rent a Flat for Us. Once She Finds Something, We’ll Move Out! But the Young Woman’s Patience Wore Thin. She Packed Up Her Things, and Her Son’s, and Moved Back in with Her Own Mum. She Told Her Husband She’d Never Set Foot in His Mother’s House Again, and If He Cared About Family, He’d Have to Sort Something Out. She Was Sure Her Beloved Would Try Everything to Bring Them Back Together. But She’d Judged Wrong. It’s Been Over Three Months Since She Moved Out, and Her Husband Hasn’t Tried to Win Her Back. He Still Lives with His Mum, Talks to His Wife and Child on Video after Work, and Visits Them on Weekends at His Mother-in-Law’s House. He Gets the Care and Attention of Two Women at Once; the Parent Gets Sympathy for Her Son, Left with an Angry Wife, and Doesn’t Have to Deal with the Child at All. The Husband Has It Made! And the Mother-in-Law Hasn’t Really Lost Anything, Either! The Young Woman Is Far from Happy with This Situation. She Loves Her Husband Very Much, Though She Knows He’s Not Doing the Right Thing. – What Did You Expect When You Left? – He Asks. – You Can Always Come Back If You Want. It’s Unlikely the Wife Plans to Leave Her Own Mum or Rent a Flat. The Woman, Now on Maternity Leave, Just Can’t Afford It. Is This Really the End of the Family? Do You Think She Still Has Any Chance of Going Back to Her Mother-in-Law’s House Without Losing Her Dignity?
Needless to say, this is all my fault! my mates sister sobbed. I could never have imagined things would turn...
“Mum, he wants me to do this for him… He says all good wives can do it… Does that mean I’m not good? Please teach me… If everyone else can, surely I should be able to as well…” I’m Still Amazed My Niece Found a Husband—Perhaps Just Because of Her Mum When Alina was a child, my sister refused to send her to nursery school; as a teenager, she wasn’t allowed out, she spent all her time at home—she became a bit of a recluse. When Alina was at university in our town, her mother made sure she always came home before 6pm. At 20, her mum would phone at half seven, shouting if she wasn’t home yet. It was absurd, just nonsense. Alina met her future husband in her second year at university; they studied together in the library, he was two years older, shared his notes with her, helped her out—a friendship that blossomed into love and eventually into dating. That’s when my niece began defiantly breaking her mother’s rules. The niece eventually married and her mother finally allowed her to start a new life of her own. Now let me tell you a recent story. I was at my sister’s house when Alina called, her voice breaking between tears and giggles so much we could barely understand her: “Mum, he wants me to do this for him… He says all good wives can do it… Does that mean I’m not a good wife? Please teach me… If everyone else can, surely I should be able to as well…” At that moment, my sister’s expression changed instantly; she told her daughter to calm down and asked what exactly all good wives are supposed to be able to do. “Make soup, Mum,” she said, and we burst out laughing. “Don’t laugh at me! You never taught me how, I’ve looked up recipes online but they never taste right!” So, my sister and I quickly taught her, step by step, how to make soup, giggling at each other all the while. That evening, my niece called to thank us—her husband had complimented her, saying it was delicious. And, best of all, according to her, she’s now a proper wife!
Honestly, Im still a bit staggered that my niece actually found herself a bloke, especially considering the way her mum...
People Adopt Children from Orphanages, So I Chose to Bring My Grandmother Home from Her Care Facility—Despite All My Friends and Neighbours Disagreeing and Saying Times Are Tough, I Knew in My Heart It Was the Right Thing to Do
There was a time, not so long ago yet distant enough for it to feel like another life, when people...
Recently, I Visited My Daughter-in-Law and Was Shocked to Find a Cleaner Hired for the House—Despite Always Telling My Son His Wife’s Finances Didn’t Matter, I Can’t Understand How They Afford a Housekeeper with Their Modest Means, Especially Since My Husband and I Bought and Renovated Their Home and Still Help Them Out—When I Found Out My Daughter-in-Law Became a ‘Blogger’ During Maternity Leave and Hired Help, I Felt Betrayed and Insisted If Anyone Should Be Paid to Clean, It Should Be Me—But My Son Sees Nothing Wrong—Am I in the Wrong for Feeling Upset?
The other day, I popped round to visit my daughter-in-law, only to find a complete stranger bustling about doing the...
To Remain Human: A December Evening at Bristol Coach Station and the Unexpected Power of Simple Kindness
Remaining Human Mid-December in the city of Nottingham is raw and blustery. A sprinkling of slushy snow only half-shields the...
“Don’t You Dare Touch My Mother’s Things,” Said My Husband — “Those Clothes Belong to My Mum. Why Did You Pack Them Away?” My Husband’s Voice Was Strange, Almost Unfamiliar “We’re throwing them out. Why keep them, Steve? They take up half the wardrobe, and I need space for winter blankets and spare pillows—everything’s scattered everywhere,” I replied, continuing to briskly remove modest blouses, skirts, and light dresses that belonged to my late mother-in-law. Valentina always hung her clothes so neatly, and she managed to pass that habit on to her son. Unlike me—with my usual wardrobe chaos and desperate morning hunts for something presentable, ending up ironing crumpled tops that looked like they’d been chewed up and spat out by a cow. It had only been three weeks since Steve said a final goodbye to his mother. She needed treatment—mostly palliative—and peace and quiet. The cancer was merciless in its speed. So she came to stay with us, fading away within the month. Now, coming home after work, Steve saw her things strewn mid-corridor like worthless junk and just froze. Was this it? Is that all his mother deserved—tossed out and so quickly forgotten? “Why are you looking at me like I’m some enemy of the people?” I retorted, stepping aside. “Do not touch these things.” His words came through gritted teeth, his face darkening dangerously; he briefly lost sensation in his hands and feet as anger rushed to his head. “For goodness’ sake, they’re just old clothes!” I shot back, my patience thin. “What do you want, a museum? She isn’t here anymore, Steve. You have to accept that. Maybe if you’d cared for her this much when she was alive, maybe visited more, you’d have known how ill she really was!” Those words hit him, hard. “Leave, before I do something I regret,” Steve managed, his breathing ragged. I snorted. “Fine. Suit yourself.” Anyone who disagreed with me must be crazy—or so I’d decided. Steve didn’t even take off his shoes as he headed for the hallway cupboard, flinging open the very top doors and hauling down one of our old checkered bags from the move—there were about seven of them. He packed all of Valentina’s belongings inside—not just stuffing, but folding each one carefully. Her jacket and a bag of shoes went on top. Our three-year-old son whirled around his father, “helping” by throwing his toy tractor into the bag. Steve hunted out a key from a drawer and pocketed it. “Daddy, where are you going?” He managed a tight smile. “I’ll be back soon, mate. Go find Mummy.” “Wait!” I called. “Are you leaving? Where are you going? What about dinner?” “No need, I’ve lost my appetite for your attitude towards my mother.” “Oh come on, are you really upset over nothing? Where do you think you’re going this late?” Not looking back, Steve left with the bag. He drove around the ring road, letting the roar of tyres drown his thoughts—work, holidays, even his favourite Facebook jokes—everything faded away except the heavy ache of loss and the accusation that maybe he’d failed his mum when she needed him most. She’d never wanted to bother him, never wanted to be a burden, and he’d started calling less, visiting less, always busy, always something else to do. Halfway there, he stopped at a roadside café, grabbed a quick bite, and drove the remaining three hours in silence. He barely noticed the sunset, just the faint memory of his childhood home drawing nearer. He arrived late, fumbled at the garden gate with his phone torch, ignoring five missed calls from me. The scent of fading bird-cherry blossom hung thick in the dark. Inside, Valentina’s old slippers waited in the porch, her house shoes by the inner door—blue and worn, with little red bunnies, a present from Steve years ago. He stood, staring, and finally entered his mother’s world for one last time. Everything was just as she’d left it—neat, a little damp-smelling, the furniture faded. Her makeup and comb, a packet of pasta marked ‘basic price’, the newer settee and telly he’d bought her, and in her room the bed piled with pillows. Steve sank onto the edge. He remembered sharing the room with his late brother, the old table by the window, now replaced with Valentina’s cherished sewing machine; her wardrobe now holding her lifetime’s treasures. The house was silent. Steve pressed his face into his knees, shook, and sobbed—he’d never found the right words to thank her; he’d sat dumb as she squeezed his hand, thousands of things left unsaid. He wished he could thank her for his safe childhood, her sacrifices, the sense of home you could always come back to, where mistakes didn’t matter and love was unconditional. But nothing he could say now felt real—our modern world, he thought, was quick with sarcasm, but never had the words for gratitude or grief. He left everything just as it was and finally slept, waking at seven as always. The morning was cool and fresh, the birch trees glowing outside the old garden fence. Steve carried the bag of his mother’s things upstairs and put everything back in its place with gentle care. He called work: “Family emergency, I’ll be back tomorrow.” He even sent me a text—apologising for his temper. After picking early tulips, daffodils and lilies of the valley, he made three small bouquets—one for each of his loved ones at the cemetery. Stopping at the shop, the old shopkeeper fussed over him, offering cheese; Steve bought some, just as his mum once did. At the grave, Steve shared breakfast—with his father, his brother, and his mum—laying out chocolate and cheese in silent tribute. He spoke to them in his mind, remembered childhood mischief with his brother, early morning fishing trips with his dad, his mum’s echoing call for dinner that he’d once found so embarrassing. He stroked the fresh earth of his mum’s grave. “Mum, I’m sorry… It shouldn’t feel this empty without you. So much I wish I’d said. You were the best parents anyone could ask for. Thank you—for everything. We’re selfish, me and Olya; you were never like that. Thank you, Vasya, too, little brother.” It was time to go. On the way, Steve met old Serge, drunk as ever, declaring it World Turtle Day. Steve looked at him, weary. “Look after your mother, mate. She’s gold, and she won’t be around forever.” And so, with that, Steve walked on—leaving his friend in the dust, and carrying his mother’s memory home.
Dont you dare touch my mothers things, said her husband. These clothes belong to my mum. Why have you packed...