Nikitayskaya Natalia

Nikitayskaya Natalia

Sun in the morning

Natalia Nikitayskaya

Sun in the morning

You, of course, will not like the first option

bathroom, you're in the shower, only I Se will go m

The new thing about you is hard work. In this sense, you beat everyone. If among biologists, like footballers, there was a count of precisely scored ideas, then you would shine brighter than Pele.

However, you sparkle.

Now I. I'm thirty. I am divorced. I live with my son in a one-room apartment. I work at a small factory in the legal department. The entire department is three people: Marya is the boss, Boris Petrovich is a lawyer, and I am the one doing the paperwork.. I have a secondary technical education. In the evenings I take care of my son. And when I go to you, my son stays with a neighbor on the site, a sweet elderly woman.

Yes, I completely forgot to say: your name is Evgeniy, my name is Olga. My son Yurka, nicknamed the Scientist.

Have I told you everything? No, not all. It's not clear how we met. And it couldn't be simpler. The cultural sector of our factory committee invited you to talk about the impact of environmental pollution on the human body. You arrived and refused payment. The workers approved of this. They also approved your story. Nowadays it is common to speak in an accessible way. But you also spoke with enthusiasm and figurativeness. You were clear. And so clearly I see you between the presidium table and the shabby podium. And you're not talking into the microphone. And you look at me so often that I think I would fall through the ground with happiness. In short, I fell in love with you at first sight. And she stayed, supposedly asking a question. And you - Lord! I understand now what it cost you! - invited me to explain everything on the way to my house. This was just four years ago.

I kissed you that evening myself. And you fell so close to me that for a second I even felt superior. But I didn't know you yet. And I didn’t think that, having gone over this whole evening in your mind, you would consider me frivolous. Then you have not yet appreciated my love and impulse. But you immediately appreciated the impulse that fell on you. And after our first night - how long I had to wait for her! - it became clear: we can’t live without each other.

It's time to stop here. It’s impossible to retell everything that happened to us in four years, and the plot doesn’t require it.

Let's return to the conversation that takes place while you are in the shower, and I seem to be preparing dinner for us.

Where's the sour cream? Have you really put the sour cream in the freezer again?

I say you froze the sour cream again!

Do not carp! These are small things compared to your shoes!

This is about the fact that I bought a great pair of shoes in the store, only both shoes were on one foot.

It’s rightly said: two boots make a difference, I’m hinting that it’s time to get married.

You don't hear any words or intonation.

You don't hear. He probably wrapped his head in a towel.

Exactly. You come out bundled up, your face is moist and radiant.

Well, what poison have you prepared for me today?

You love to eat, and I try my best to please you.

No, nothing, nothing, delicious...

Liked? For once I got it...

You glance at me, looking up from your plate, quickly and devotedly.

Will you stay the night?

No. She promised the Scientist to draw a duty schedule for his star.

Commander?

Didn't I tell you? I was happy all evening yesterday.

Joyful child.

Brings me joy.

I am also attached to him.

You just rarely see it.

Well, Olya...

I'm silent, I'm silent.

You're coming. And you put your arm around my shoulders. Affection makes me stupid and I go ahead:

Zhenya, let's get married.

A woman, Olya,” you say, smiling joyfully, “must wait to be called to marry.” Don't perform male functions.

You know everything about functions better than me. And I’m not making you an offer at all, but persuading you to make it to me.

Yeah! And you will think and refuse! - you put forward an assumption so ridiculous that we both laugh.

You know how much I love your jokes. Each new meeting added looseness and warmth to our relationship. And one of the signs of both is your humor.

But our meetings, especially recently, brought out not only good things. Or rather, my whole life - mine, in any case - was divided into periods: we are together and we are apart.

And since the first were much less common than the second, and the second, again for me, meant bitter loneliness, and my emotional nature knew how to somehow exaggerately experience this bitterness, and when we were together, I did not allow myself to throw out negative emotions, considering, that tears and reproaches will push you away - then the warmth multiplied over the years was still not enough for me to have peace of mind.

And so today I wanted to get an answer.

Well, but still?

Olya! Oleshek! I’m not fit to be a husband; I’m not mature yet, apparently...

When you mature, you will say... - I was offended.

I'll tell you. And remember, if this happens, it will only be for you, and you first...

You always felt it was time for a pat on the head. I accepted the gesture.

Don't lie. You have already proposed to one woman, for her you are already ripe.

How's that? Who is she?

She has a sonorous name. She is bloodthirsty and precise. Elusive and beautiful. She's a vamp. She's a sissy. And you love her more than anyone!

Who is this? Of course, I wouldn’t refuse one!

Her name is Biology! And I am jealous of you for this side-eyed beauty.

Why is it oblique?

One eye of hers cannot see enough of the exact sciences, the other winks at the humanities, and she is only interested in mortal creations.

Don't blame her for this. After all, we are such creatures. How can you not be interested in me?

Listen, can she hug like that? And kiss? - I pressed my lips to your ear and whispered a prayer like a shaman: - Why, why are two people so suitable for each other, so loving... No, in my opinion, we are depriving ourselves of happiness...

You're holding me tight. But this is not so much a loving embrace as a belittling embrace.

How you elude the main decision! How can you combine the incompatible: being with me and keeping me at a distance! I don’t understand what’s stopping you from being like others, I can’t understand. But I don’t want to see you humiliated, so I roll back.

However, we are already happy, right?

True, true,” you repeat with relief.

It should be noted that you are afraid of losing me. You’re afraid that I won’t be able to withstand such a life: meetings once a week, scanty conversations on the phone, your frequent trips - for some reason not a single international symposium can do without you.

But I can stand it. And Marya with her lifting; “What kind of character do you have, Olga? You didn’t get along with your husband. And this one won’t marry you.” This is not said seriously, not by a strange coincidence, always after I show dissatisfaction with Marya’s leadership style. I repeat, I tolerate Marya, I tolerate your indecision, the loneliness that for some reason you do not feel, I humble myself and my impatience. I humble myself because I love you and am afraid of losing you.

You see what happens: we are both afraid of losing each other. And we both love Yurka. True, you rarely see him.

Here I go, here I go. I’m getting closer to the main events and I’m still afraid of missing out on something. This is true. She did not explain her son's nickname. They began to call him a scientist almost from the nursery. He is, as you put it, a child with frequent flashes of genius. Do you like logic in. his thoughts and actions. You see him as a future mathematician. But I think that Yurka is more inclined towards art: he is very emotional. Of all our trinity: you, me, him - I am the most uneventful. I'm ordinary.

Well, now about the most important thing. If this were a historical work, the words “turning point” would certainly be used here. After all, everything really turned upside down. The change of scenery happened as suddenly as is possible only in a magic theater. I stepped over the threshold. You went out onto the landing and stood on the stairs, holding the door. I wasn't having much fun. Another meeting has ended. And everything is the same as before. Nothing changed. I was returning to normal life - without you. As a farewell, I stroked the sleeve of your terry robe. And failed. I didn't even have time to scream. Fell into oblivion. Then you told the same thing: “You touched your sleeve. It was so tender. I felt so warm. And suddenly, a complete blackout. Like a dream. Or death.”

Why did they choose us? Who knows how they spotted us among billions of earthlings? But, one way or another, the second act began. Alien ship. Glowing texts on the wall in a large room built especially for us. The first text was: "We welcome earthlings to our ship. Peaceful spies." Then the word “scouts” faded away and two words appeared instead: “scouts of the Universe.” The scoreboard reminded me of Aksakov's "The Scarlet Flower". And the fact that their translator does not always immediately find synonyms in our language was so human. For some reason, I immediately realized that what was happening was real. You stood there tense.

And this tension was about to turn into admiration. You believed it too. And he was shocked. But what shock could stop the work of your mind? You mentally analyzed your impressions, you wanted to find out with what forces these “infiltrators” managed to extinguish consciousness, and then revive it again, without damaging anything, without disturbing anything. You tried to understand what happened objectively and impartially. But is this possible right away? You started asking questions. They answered you. But the answers - I saw - did not satisfy you. I tried to understand your conversation, but after several impressive formulas that you uttered quickly, I gave up trying, just firmly...

Morning routine is quite popular these days. It all comes down to getting off to a productive start so you can have the best day. And there are reasons why you should add reading to your morning routine. If your morning routine involves yelling at your husband, yelling at your kids, running through the house looking for your lost keys, and running out without brushing your hair or eating anything, you need to rethink that lifestyle.

Why is morning routine popular today? We like to talk about how to start the day on the right wave, so to speak. Do you make breakfast a ritual and make oatmeal with fruit? Do you enjoy a cup of coffee or trade it for lemon water or a green smoothie? No matter how else you want to start your day, you should consider reading a book. This is why reading in the morning will improve your productivity.

You'll have a real break

Modern life is not for the faint of heart. This includes constant text messages, Instagram notifications, and a load of stress. From morning to night you are always running somewhere, in a hurry. From the moment you leave your apartment in the morning and go to the office, the nightmare begins. You complete important tasks, do office work, and meet deadlines. And this is just your job. You don't even relax, even though you should, because you're always answering work emails, scrolling through social media, and thinking about work. You might as well be in the office 24/7, given how little relaxation you have.

When you read a book in the morning, you give yourself a real break. It's quite a pleasant experience to relax as soon as you open your eyes. Think about it this way: what will calm you down? Another scroll through Instagram, wondering why people's lives seem so much more perfect than yours? Or reading a juicy novel, memoirs, biographies of famous people? The choice is quite obvious, isn't it? Be sure to try this morning trick and see the results.

You will get inspired

If you take a half hour or so to read a piece of nonfiction early in the day, you'll be inspired early in the morning, especially if you can find something related to business or even a book that talks about an industry that interests you. Even if you read a novel, you will still be inspired. Reading has always been a magical activity. The whole point is that at this time you are transported to another world, thinking about some kind of society and how people act, feel and think. If you're having some really crazy days, you might want to set your alarm an hour earlier so you have time to read. This will inspire you too. There is something special about such a moment of awakening. You will get out of bed with great pleasure, because even if you have a lot of things planned, reading will come first. It will relax and inspire you for your work day.

This is also meditation

Of course, you're not going to sit cross-legged on the floor of your house with your eyes closed and your palms open. This is the exact definition of meditation. But you can meditate in different ways. Even just sitting down by yourself and focusing on something that doesn't involve technology or your iPhone can honestly be considered meditation. And this process is definitely good for you: you will be less nervous, which, of course, is good in this crazy world. Try it! You won't believe how your whole day can change. Think of it as yoga for your mind. You shouldn't feel any guilt because you deserve to take some time to relax. After a week of such procedures, you will realize that you have been waiting for this for a long time.

You will have time for yourself

Taking time for yourself means a lot these days. People would even be surprised if they found work-life balance. They usually wish they had more time to themselves (perhaps because everyone spends their free time looking at their iPhone instead of actually using it). Adding reading to your morning routine will ensure that you have some time to yourself, even before the craziest day begins. You won't even care if your boss dumps more work on your desk or your friend cancels a long-planned lunch. Taking some time for yourself will do wonders for your productivity because you won't be resenting your workload. You will not regret that today is not Sunday and you cannot be lazy, lie on the couch, watch a movie. You will feel that you have enough rest and will be able to work without any problems.

You will have time to think

It's very easy to get lost in your thoughts in these busy days. If you're dealing with an annoying situation or trying to solve a problem, it will haunt you throughout the day as you sit at your desk trying to get some work done. If you read a little in the morning, it gives you some time to think. Of course, you'll be focusing on the story or the advice, depending on whether you're immersed in a novel or a non-fiction book, but your mind will definitely wander if you have something on your mind, and that's very helpful.

By the end of the next reading session, you will find ways to solve the problem, and this will free you from the burden and give you the most productive day. It's amazing how much it distracts you from what's going on in your personal life: your best friend who's getting on your nerves, your boyfriend who doesn't want to reveal his true feelings.

Conclusion

This way, you'll be doing your emotional health a huge favor, and your relationships will also improve. Who knew that the simple act of reading a book could do so much? Do you read in the morning? How do you usually start your day? Do you think reading fiction or non-fiction would be a better way to start the day?

Once upon a time, at the dawn of my freelance work, I earned very little, but I firmly decided to spend 10% of my income on books. Then with this money I could barely buy one normal book. Years passed, and I firmly adhered to this rule. Now, with 10% of my monthly salary, I can buy so many books that I couldn’t read in a year - and this means that I bought and read books for good reason.

Always save 10% of your income on books - this is the best investment of this money. You don’t need to save more, and you don’t need to save less either.

Here is my monthly norm at the moment:

2. Read with a notepad

I also like to call this rule “read smartly.” I never read a book twice. This happens because I “squeeze” all the ideas out of it in as much detail as possible - a notebook helps me. While reading a book, I write down all the interesting and useful ideas, all the links to other books, and write down quotes that inspire me. When I don’t have a notepad at hand or it’s inconvenient to use, I write in the margins with a pencil.

As a result, what remains in my notebook is a summary of the book, a concentration of its ideas, the quintessence of its meaning. It’s nice to re-read the notebook later - it’s very inspiring.

And most importantly, such reading allows you to penetrate deeply into the book.

3. Make a list of books you need to buy

Combining the first two tips, we have a rule of spending 10% of money on books and a list of interesting books in a notebook. This very list is the “to-do” for future purchases. It is regularly shuffled and recycled - personal and professional interests tend to change.

4. Read at least an hour a day

Or better yet, two. It doesn't really matter how much you read (although I highly recommend reading at least an hour a day). It is important to do this regularly - accustom yourself to the rule “not a day without a book.”

Finding an hour a day to read is very difficult, especially for a busy person. In this case, I advise you to break your reading into small twenty-minute segments that you can “eat” evenly throughout the day. Reading at night before bed is not cool; a tired brain will refuse to accept the book and consider it a sleeping pill.

5. Mix styles

I am a big fan of books about self-development and motivation (I’m probably one of those people for whom reading books about self-development has replaced self-development itself). However, reading only such books every day is boring. Therefore, alternate books, first useful, then fiction, then business and then fiction. Fiction books are also very useful and interesting to read.

6. Don't hold on to books

I recommend exchanging books with friends and acquaintances. First of all, it's a great way to save money. Secondly, you help your friends learn and develop. I have already lost count of the books that I have sent by mail to my friends - it is both pleasant for me and useful for them.

7. Switch to e-books

No matter what anyone says, the paper book is gradually dying out, turning into something like a vinyl record - a pleasure for fans. Reading in a reader is easier, simpler and much cheaper. For a reading enthusiast, the reader pays for itself in about two months. It’s hard to calculate how many trees you’ll save.

These are my simple rules and laws. Once you start reading, it is impossible to stop. I'll tell you this for sure. And one more thing: as the unknown designer Artemy Lebedev once said, every successful person is, first of all, the books he read on time.

Vasily Belov

Dates in the morning

Grandma got up at six o'clock, when cars began to make noise on the street. Now her sleep is not strong, she sleeps and thinks all night. The first, probably still empty, trolleybus passed outside the window. Every time something clicks in it, it seems to her that the machine has broken down in the morning. They look after cars poorly! There are a lot of cars, but they don’t take care of them...

Today is Saturday. Anxiety for the coming day began in the evening. Now this anxiety immediately grips the old heart. Grandmother began to be afraid of Saturdays and holidays. Previously, when I lived in the village, I was happy, but now I began to be afraid. Will something happen again today? Yesterday my son-in-law came home late, but my daughter did not talk to him.

We slept apart again.

The grandmother quietly, with her feet, feels for the shoes. She puts her feet in slippers and, holding back a cough so as not to wake up her granddaughter, whispers: “Sleep, mother, sleep! Christ is with you. There’s no need to go to kindergarten today.”

The granddaughter from his first son-in-law sleeps with her grandmother. As soon as you get off the boob, everything starts to feel better. It happened that he would start roaring, and my daughter would immediately lose her temper. Throws the baby on the bed like a stranger. And all because neurons. The nerves these days are thin, many of them are very bad.

This is what she thinks, tucking the blanket around the child sprawled in bed.

The way to the toilet is now the most important for her. There are only four steps. But you also have to open the doors - two of them - and walk across the parquet. And the parquet creaks, and the rugs that they brought from the village don’t help. I wove it specifically for them. My daughter ordered in a letter when the fashion for many rustic things began. And that’s to say - fashion is not fashion, but you can’t buy enough carpets.

She carefully opens the door to the corridor. He steps quietly on the rugs. But the parquet still creaks, as if dry birch bark had been placed underneath it. Thank God they didn’t hear it in their room. Now I wish I could open the door with my blessing. The door also creaks, and the switch clicks very loudly. She decides not to turn on the light; there is still a window in the toilet from the kitchen, so it’s possible at dusk. Even better. The new son-in-law covered the entire toilet with pictures, and in the pictures there were only naked girls. She is always ashamed to look at these people - they almost don’t wear what their mother gave birth to. They hang like that scheperi. But what will you do? Case theirs. Grandmother sighs and again thinks about what to do. You should really flush the water, but you'll make such a noise that it's a real disaster. If you don't let it go, it's also a sin. My daughter scolds me for the noise, my son-in-law is angry that the smell remains, you don’t know who to listen to, who to please...

She again decides half and half: she doesn’t drain all the water, but only part of it, carefully so that it doesn’t gurgle. The washing is okay, you can wait. She just as quietly returns to her six-meter room, where her granddaughter sleeps.

A sharp, but somehow short, seemingly bashful bell is heard from the front doors. Grandmother, holding her breath, tiptoes to her door. “Lord, you don’t know what to do. If you don’t open it, they’ll call again and wake everyone up. And you can’t open it either. If only my son-in-law would wake up and come out. Maybe to him..."

She waits tensely: maybe they will leave. He creeps up to the door and listens. No, they didn't leave. You can clearly hear: there is someone behind the doors. It's better to open it.

She carefully, quietly, turns the lock handle and quietly opens the door.

A bald old man in boots, in a gray cotton jacket, holding a cap in his hands, hesitates at the door.

Good health! - he says loudly, and the grandmother waves her hands at him: “Hush, hush!..”

The old man moves his backpack from place to place and also begins to whisper:

I would like this... I mean, Kostya... No Konstenkin?

No, no

Where is he? Not on a business trip?

I don’t know, I don’t know, father. He doesn't live here now.

Have you moved?

Moved, moved. Whose will you be?

Yes, I mean it... Tell Konstenkin that Smolin was there. Olesha, that means... Well, excuse me, please.

With God blessing.

Grandma carefully closes the door. It's good that no one woke up. Let them sleep, with Christ, they have also suffered for a week, she thinks with respect about her son-in-law, daughter and sister-in-law, who came from another city, to act. That's six o'clock on the alarm clock. After reading the prayer, she sits at the feet of her granddaughter. It is very bad and unpleasant to sit like this, doing nothing. And there is a lot to do, but they will wake up at nine, not earlier. I could knit it on knitting needles, but I just ran out of wool. I should write a letter to my son, but they have paper and envelopes in their room. I would like to go get some bread and milk, but the store only opens at eight o’clock. There is nothing to do for now. The Dumas themselves are surrounded on all sides. And all thoughts are only about them, about the children. The sons are far away, but my heart aches for them. One, an officer, serves in Germany - this is the youngest. The other lives in Siberia and left as a teenager. One daughter is in Moscow, the other - the eldest - lives in the village. That guy doesn’t drink, he’s a craftsman. You can think about them in the heat of the moment; they live well. They themselves have grandchildren. But I feel sorry for the local daughter, even in front of my eyes, more than anyone else. They live like in a train station. She herself has become like a piece of wood, she also quarrels with this guy almost every other day. The first one was divorced because of drinking. The second one, although he doesn’t drink, is an ordinary drinker, and not independent. He himself is worse than any woman. They argue about trifles, but why argue? There is money, you are fed, you have shoes. Thank God, times have improved, the stores are full of everything. It used to be that they would bring chintz to the shop - they bought it by lot. And now they don’t know what to wear, they take gifts for every holiday. And the holidays are humming along. What about among themselves? Often like dogs. “Is this what I taught her?” - Grandmother says bitterly to herself.

And she remembers a long time ago. Long ago, but so clear, here, as if it had never gone away. Men and wives never slept apart before. If they only go to war or to earn money. And now? Women are too lazy to give birth to children, men have forgotten how to feed their families.

Is it really a man if he earns less than his wife?

And suddenly she feels ashamed that she sneaks people through. She scolds herself in a hasty whisper and remembers yesterday’s letter from the village.

It's a pity. I feel sorry for everyone - those suffering now and those who have suffered. There, they write in the letter, a decent sir, younger than her, but he died. He planned to live until he was ninety. Don't forget to remember him in church. Oh, how much man has endured! He was wounded and robbed. They tore off their skin in captivity and spit into their eyes.

She also remembers her own husband, who died in the last war. His mother-in-law, sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law come to mind behind him. What can I say, the deceased was not very affectionate. Yes, that's fair. He used to sit by the samovar, giving the first cup to his husband and the second to his son. And the third, not for myself and not for my young sisters-in-law, but for her, my daughter-in-law. The father-in-law, too, did not immediately, but thawed out, but then he did not let anyone offend.

Grandma got up at six o'clock, when cars began to make noise on the street. Now her sleep is not strong, she sleeps and thinks all night. The first, probably still empty, trolley bus passed outside the window. Every time something clicks in it, it seems to her that the machine has broken down in the morning. They look after cars poorly! There are a lot of cars, but they don’t take care of them...

Today is Saturday. Anxiety for the coming day began in the evening. Now this anxiety immediately grips the old heart. Grandmother began to be afraid of Saturdays and holidays. Previously, when I lived in the village, I was happy, but now I began to be afraid. Will something happen again today? Yesterday my son-in-law came home late, but my daughter did not talk to him.

We slept apart again.

The grandmother quietly, with her feet, feels for the shoes. She puts her feet in slippers and, holding back a cough so as not to wake up her granddaughter, whispers: “Sleep, mother, sleep! Christ is with you. No need to go to kindergarten today.”

The granddaughter from his first son-in-law sleeps with her grandmother. As soon as you get rid of the boobs, everything increases. It happened that he would start roaring, and my daughter would immediately lose her temper. Throws the baby on the bed like a stranger. And all because they are neurotic. The nerves these days are thin, many of them are very bad.

This is what she thinks, tucking the blanket around the child sprawled in bed.

The way to the toilet is now the most important for her. There are only four steps. But you also have to open the doors - two of them - and walk across the parquet. And the parquet creaks, and the rugs that they brought from the village don’t help. I wove it specifically for them. My daughter ordered in a letter when the fashion for many rustic things began. And that’s to say - fashion is not fashion, but you can’t buy enough carpets.

She carefully opens the door to the corridor. He steps quietly on the rugs. But the parquet still creaks, as if dry birch bark had been placed underneath it. Thank God they didn’t hear it in their room. Now I wish I could open the door with my blessing. The door also creaks, and the switch clicks very loudly. She decides not to turn on the light; there is still a window in the toilet from the kitchen, so it’s possible at dusk. Even better. The new son-in-law covered the entire toilet with pictures, and in the pictures there were only naked girls. She is always ashamed to look at these people - they almost don’t wear what their mother gave birth to. These are the kind of shcheperi hanging. But what will you do? It's their business. Grandmother sighs and again thinks about what to do. You should really flush the water, but you'll make such a noise that it's a real disaster. If you don't let it go, it's also a sin. My daughter scolds me for the noise, my son-in-law is angry that the smell remains, you don’t know who to listen to, who to please...

She again decides half and half: she doesn’t drain all the water, but only part of it, carefully so that it doesn’t gurgle. The washing is okay, you can wait. She just as quietly returns to her six-meter room, where her granddaughter sleeps.

A sharp, but somehow short, seemingly bashful bell is heard from the front doors. Grandmother, holding her breath, tiptoes to her door. “Lord, you don’t know what to do. If you don’t open it, they’ll call again and wake everyone up. But you can’t open it either. If only my son-in-law would wake up and come out. Maybe to see him...”

She waits tensely: maybe they will leave. He creeps up to the door and listens. No, they didn't leave. You can clearly hear: there is someone behind the doors. It's better to open it.

She carefully, quietly, turns the lock handle and quietly opens the door.

A bald old man in boots, in a gray cotton jacket, holding a cap in his hands, hesitates at the door.

Good health! - he says loudly, and the grandmother waves her hands at him: “Hush, hush!..”

The old man moves his backpack from place to place and also begins to whisper:

I would like this... I mean, Kostya... No Konstenkin?

No, no

Where is he? Not on a business trip?

I don’t know, I don’t know, father. He doesn't live here now.

Have you moved?

Moved, moved. Whose will you be?

Yes, I mean it... Tell Konstenkin that Smolin was there. Olesha, that means... Well, excuse me, please.

With God blessing.

Grandma carefully closes the door. It's good that no one woke up. Let them sleep, with Christ, they have also suffered for a week, she thinks with respect about her son-in-law, daughter and sister-in-law, who came from another city, to act. That's six o'clock on the alarm clock. After reading the prayer, she sits at the feet of her granddaughter. It is very bad and unpleasant to sit like this, doing nothing. And there is a lot to do, but they will wake up at nine, not earlier. I could knit it on knitting needles, but I just ran out of wool. I should write a letter to my son, but they have paper and envelopes in their room. I would like to go get some bread and milk, but the store only opens at eight o’clock. There is nothing to do for now. The Dumas themselves are surrounded on all sides. And all thoughts are only about them, about the children. The sons are far away, but my heart aches for them. One, an officer, serves in Germany - this is the youngest. The other lives in Siberia and left as a teenager. One daughter is in Moscow, the other - the eldest - lives in the village. That guy doesn’t drink, he’s a craftsman. You can think about them in the heat of the moment; they live well. They themselves have grandchildren. But I feel sorry for the local daughter, even in front of my eyes, more than anyone else. They live like in a train station. She herself has become like a piece of wood, she also quarrels with this guy almost every other day. The first one was divorced because of drinking. The second one, although he doesn’t drink, is an ordinary drinker, and not independent. He himself is worse than any woman. They argue about trifles, but why argue? There is money, you are fed, you have shoes. Thank God, times have improved, the stores are full of everything. It used to be that they would bring chintz to the shop - they bought it by lot. And now they don’t know what to wear, they take gifts for every holiday. And the holidays are humming along. What about among themselves? Often like dogs. “Is this what I taught her?” - Grandmother says bitterly to herself.

And she remembers a long time ago. Long ago, but so clear, here, as if it had never gone away. Men and wives never slept apart before. If they only go to war or to earn money. And now? Women are too lazy to give birth to children, men have forgotten how to feed their families.

Is it really a man if he earns less than his wife?

And suddenly she feels ashamed that she sneaks people through. She scolds herself in a hasty whisper and remembers yesterday’s letter from the village.

It's a pity. I feel sorry for everyone - those suffering now and those who have suffered. There, they write in the letter, a decent sous-dushko, younger than her, but he died. He planned to live until he was ninety. Don't forget to remember him in church. Oh, how much man has endured! He was wounded and robbed. They tore off their skin in captivity and spit into their eyes.

She also remembers her own husband, who died in the last war. His mother-in-law, sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law come to mind behind him. What can I say, the deceased was not very affectionate. Yes, that's fair. He used to sit by the samovar, giving the first cup to his husband and the second to his son. And the third, not for myself and not for my young sisters-in-law, but for her, my daughter-in-law. The father-in-law, too, did not immediately, but thawed out, but then he did not let anyone offend.

The old man was stern, needless to say. It’s a sin to remember, I came into the house, spinning as if on suley. Once I was sweeping the hut and looked and there was a silver ruble under the bench. Alone in the house. It’s a stupid thing, I didn’t realize right away that it was planted on purpose, but anyway, before the door, I handed the money to the old man: “Here, daddy, I found it under the bench.” I was so pleased and glad! He praised her and stroked her head like a little girl. The eldest sister-in-law did not sell the cows, so she made her daughter-in-law big. Life is long, oh long, you can do a lot.

Grandmother’s thoughts flow one after another, but then the parquet floor creaked in the corridor, the kettle rattled in the kitchen. They woke up and got up. The grandmother suddenly remembers that today is Sunday and that she should go for a walk with her granddaughter. Her soul begins to hurt. Grandma quietly approaches the window and furtively looks out onto the street, in the direction where the telephone booth and the grocery store are. Is it here? It's already here. Standing, cordial, in a gray raincoat, collar raised. Smokes. The granddaughter is still sleeping, but he is standing. This is how every Sunday morning, he comes and waits until the grandmother and granddaughter go out into the yard. But sometimes the daughter herself takes the girl for a walk to the park, and then he pulls his collar down and locks himself in a telephone booth. And stands behind the glass until they pass.