Family feeling

Family feeling.

The sound of car approaching

«Thank you for your help.”

«See you when you'll be somewhere around.”

The sound of car driving away.

The husband of woman I'm renting a dwelling put money into inner jacket’s pocket sharply glancing into the house’s window, but the landlady is too busy to count his money - she came to my door. I'm waiting, counting: 3, 2, 1.

“Knock-knock.”

 “Yes-yes. I know, I understand, yes, I won’t burn so much firewood, yes, money, next week, yes, definitely, yes, accurately, surely, next week.”

 She glances through the window, notices next victim and runs away.

 Contemporary marriage. Having burnt the first little pile of firewood now I’m starting to burn second, hidden, forbidden, and constantly telling myself, “Hate online stadying, doing nothing, having learned nothing, knowing nothing and it’ll finally be paid off as much as nothing.”

But the fire is reluctant to start, it needs a paper. I'm looking through the old torn copybooks and noticing one list.

The list is starting to burn, the letters are vanishing, meanwhile they evoke in my mind image of an old white-haired smiling curly lady. Having called there firstly I knew already this person isn't the youngest one. Visiting her and asking for spare flat I’d finally realized, she was scarcely alive thanking her boiling life energy. She was 89 then. One evening she was deadly ill already she’s told me of her life story, which was full of sorrow.

“The boy, I was loving from the first glance, joined the army, father has died, mother and two of my sisters worked hardly to earn leaving. I decided to become a nurse. Neighbour boy was in handy all of the time, he cut firewood, brought water and was looking at me with a puppy eyes. I was waiting for the time when the boy I was fond of would return. Later on the neighbour boy was conscripted in the army force too. I was alone, graduated from college and started working as a nurse. I always was dressed smart and wore high heels. Neighbour boy wrote about 30 letters, my love at the first sight more than 50.

The neighbour boy has returned faster. As his aunt was working in City Hall, he decided and took my passport and registered our marriage without even simple yes to that.

“Strange days that were, strange life were we living there and then,” looking into the mirror told she, while me and my sister were pretending to be an Empresses maids, making her white fluffy hair into locks, doing makeup and prising black shimmering dress was ”truly the best one and suited to the light coffee coat and a little clutch as they were all born together.”

Her bright blue eyes were sparkling, she was smiling, - “When my the most tender and the clearest love came back from army, I was pregnant and unhappy. I felt empty and cold. I've met him in the street and froze. He invited me for a coffee. We were chatting almost till midnight. He begged me to left my husband and went with him. “I almost finished University. I intended to be a doctor. I would be the doctor, you - the nurse, we would be happy together, we would work together, chat together, dine together, breathe together.” At least I agreed.

That night I was sleeping badly, nightmares scared me to death. One of them almost petrified me - I was walking up the street and the truck almost squeezed me moving so rapidly! I was dressed in white summer dress and my beloved boy drop off the truck on me heart and the lungs, all blood soaked. I woke up terrified.

Next day I’ve got to know that after hours chat he was so excited, that driving a motorbike crashed into the truck and died instantly. Road accident. I couldn't cry at the funeral. I was frozen, pale and quiet. My husband took my hand and we went home. He said nothing. Then, after a few years, my husband who has always been a hard-working person started to oversleep the alarm clock, and turned yellow more and more. He looked so bad, I've decided to take him for health check. The only joy in my life for that time was my son. I loved him devotedly. Medical examination in the capital of the country proved the diagnosis of cancer. Lying desperately we looked after him, we were walking, doing barbecue swimming in a lake and enjoying a life for the last time. Before the death when he asked to tell the reason of his dying I haven't told him the truth. I felt such pity then, even guilt.”

“Wasn't you happy at least once?”- asked my sister, the captain of a basketball team, although the delicate dreamer inside.

 “Yes, I was. 29-years-old. A widow. 7-years-old son. Half-built house. Frustration. Despair. What was strange, in that year I’ve received the largest amount of proposals than of all of the years before. I was introduced to nice young man who invited me for the concert. Returning home I got to know that he was fond of me for years. It was such an odd that I believed, it was too insane to make up. The next day I needed a hand to whitewash the house so I called him and he stayed, up to day of his death, 5 years ago.”- An old lady smiled kindly. - “ Worked in the newest shirt. He loved me more than I could describe. “ – Gasp.-“We went every weekend by car to the seaside, went hiking, went to the country, bought clothes, furniture, new kitchen equipment, all I desired. I taught him how to work in the field.”- She showed us a photograph, where there were two people: a plump little 50-years old lady with beautiful haircut, dressed in blue and a man, laughing and making funny faces behind her back. We smiled. Warm family feeling.

I'm burning that photo and a pack of letters stiffened with ribbon and asking myself , why am I crying? The beautiful open-hearted lady wasn't even my granny. Yes, her relatives left her alone to die. Family feeling. She boasted that she was driving till 85 and was the smartest dressed woman in her department, and the second half of her life the most devotedly loved woman in town… So what? Where were her relatives when I was leaving a town for winter holidays? Phone call. “The granny has died.”

Moving the flat I’ve noticed lack of old ladies things. None of her old fashioned, once they were luxurious, of course, coats with embroidered collars, thin airy chiffon handkerchiefs, gleaming sparkling clothes, tiny clutches and sweet souvenirs on the shelf near the mirror the house is turned into something impersonal, cold, speechless.

I've suddenly started to laugh remembering returning home I found a picturesque view - our landlady, my son and a big white dog where all together lied on a sofa and watching some bloody story about crimes and corpses hidden beneath the floor. What a sweet lovely picture! They were chatting and eating chocolates, even the dog! That was the woman buried a father, a mother, two husbands, a son and two sisters. She was living thank to strength of spirit, according to Seneca.

I’ve just remembered a joke.

“Granny, how has you decided that my grandfather was that the only one?”

“Well, when we were young, there were tough after-war years. All boys were courting, giving compliments. And your grandfather was the only one who asked: “Have you eat today, darling?”

I'm listening to the owners of the flat. They are arguing, whose turn is it to walk two big dogs. They are counting.

Family isn’t something needed for today's people. It's gradually became something unnecessary. To live alone is easier financially. One shouldn't compromise, agree.

They have at least counted. She will walk the dog.