My first love covered me in 1991, when I was 15. I was a shy teenager, interested in volleyball, listening to music, walking with friends — generally like the majority of teenagers at the time. I was not distracted by female attention. A long, loophole, foolish hairstyle with which he tried to hide his defect. The classmates caused only laughter and ridicule. Sometimes I wondered, how can I find a couple who needs it?

In the summer of 1991, the exams were passed, before traveling to the village for the holidays, my father arranged to work for the factory. Before the weekend I heard in the conversation of my parents that my mother’s friend, whom she met in the sanatorium, came to visit. A girlfriend from Moldova, my mom’s mate, seems to be with my daughter, my one. Come here, what’s the difference? We lived in a family dormitory, there were two rooms. Saturday, I sit at home and watch TV. I hear some noise, laughter, greetings in the common hallway. I knew guests were coming. The door opens, my mom’s friend enters, greeting me. Her daughter follows her. and all. The world around me ceased to exist. She said “Hello. I felt like I had lost the gift of speech. I remember kidding. They stayed with us for a few hours and went to my mom's sister for a night's dinner, as if we had no room in the shelter. When they got out, I didn’t know what to do. I was so empty in the shower that I wanted to wash. This girl was always in front of me. I understood that she was from another republic, that she lived 500 kilometers from me, that she spoke another language, and that she could have so many friends and boys, that I had nothing to catch with a “bite” cow-early teenager. With cautious hints, I learned that the guests will come again tomorrow. All night I thought about how to conspire, how to communicate, and so on. Obviously, when they arrived the next day, I was only enough to sit at my desk in another room and listen to music. During the whole time I broke a couple of words (red and covered with steam) and watched a cable film together in the evening. It was as if I was sitting almost a few meters away, and she didn’t look at me, and I was even afraid to look at her. In the evening, the guests left. and all. These two days changed my life forever. I thought of her every day, almost constantly. I remembered these two short meetings, a million times I imagined saying something, doing something. To be clearer, I’ve been thinking about this girl every day for 3 years. I graduated from school 9th grade, entered the school, I was lighted by the army (there was no clear thing to crack in my mind). I knew I would never see someone I loved so much again. I thought to myself: What do I love? Over the years, I have lost the face of a girl. Only bright moments remained: hairstyles, jeans - bananas, barefoot (light sandals), thin, low, eyes, lips. Before the army a year worked in the factory, there was full of young girls, in each searched for her traits. I reassured myself that if I found someone close to her, I could love her. If it can be called so.

And now I remember January 20, 1994, I sit at home, late in the evening, listen to the monsoon, some collection from a friend took. And there was the song of Vadim Kazachenko “Letter”. And I get through the thought: to write a letter. To write to a former federal republic that became independent, to write a letter to a girl who no longer even remembers our meeting. The plan was grand. The first feeling was shame. What do my parents and friends think of me? But in a few months I go to the army, and I get rid of everything. I find out from my mother’s address and knowing that her birthday is February 3, I buy a greeting card, come up with a congratulatory poem and seal it in the envelope sent. Obviously, at the time there was no report on delivery, and it is unlikely that someone in another state would have delivered with notification. And at the end of March I was ripe to write a letter with an explanation in love. I wrote it three or four times, broke it and wrote it again. I sent. It was easy in the soul. If I don’t get an answer, I’ll reassure myself that at least I’ve tried to do something. I understood that there was a one-on-a-million chance that my letter would reach, that the girl would read it, remember me, respond with mutuality, and what next? I go to the army in a month, what is the chance that something can be positive in my situation?

In general, on May 30, he went to the army, quarantine, all affairs, oath, was released for a day home. I have a lot of friends at home and everyone is happy to see me. And here, like a bowl of cold water behind the shovel, here is a letter from Moldova. My hands really trembled when I opened it. A letter from a girl I have thought of every day for the last 3 years. The content was not very joyful. Yes, she remembers me, was surprised by the birthday greeting card, very surprised that it caused such feelings in me. On my suggestion to correspond - I agree, on request to send a photo - maybe later, now there is no suitable. and all. But for me it was something. I was on Everest with happiness. I remember my mother asking, “What kind of letter is this, who is writing it to you?” I am writing with your girlfriend’s daughter. She was very surprised by this situation. In response, I asked to write to my home address. I didn’t want my letters to be opened in parts and read by others. In the third letter, she sent me her photo. 10x15, almost in full height, the features of the face lubricated by a low-quality print from a color film. From the photo, a little smiling, a girl looked at me, who took my peace and my heart. The hair is different, the look is different. But I did not care. I looked “to the hole” in this photo, trying to remember it. For the New Year, I wrote for dismissal home. I really wanted her to come visit. Her mother was so surprised that we began to rewrite. But she agreed to come with her for the New Year to me in the city. And here I am in dismissal, we with the whole family go to visit my mom’s sister, where guests from Moldova are already waiting for me. I go into the apartment, everyone joyfully greet each other, I go into the room, she stands by the window, smiles, I approach, stretch out my hand and say: hello, I am Dmitry. She smiles, holds my hand and answers: Natalia. We talked all night, we drove with our families in a large empty bus to our home (already in a new 3-bedroom apartment, which we received immediately after the breakup of the Union) and met the New Year together. I was the happiest person on earth. In my soul I was glad that next to me was a man from whom I felt well and calm in my soul, even simply from her presence. The next day I had to go back to the part in the evening, the girl with her mother to go home. I even remember pushing the last cross-city road to Odessa, which could not drive because of the unexpected snowfall. Everything went well, they got on their evening train, and I got to my part.

Further, the gray soldier's days flowed again, painted with letters from a beloved girlfriend. In February 1996 I was given a 20 day leave. I decided to go to Moldova for a girl’s birthday. My mother looked at me with such eyes that I realized I would be cut out of the will. From the vacation money was bought a ticket for the train (well in those years went the train Odessa - Ivano-Frankivsk, which passed through Moldova and the station, which was a kilometer from the city where my girlfriend lived. I could already afford to write "my girlfriend," although in the letters we had pretty friendly relationships. In general, I bought in Odessa a bouquet of roses (February month like no) I packed it so that I could bring it, my aunt, who lives in Odessa and at the time traded on 7 kilometers for cheap (35 dollars) sold me an elegant black dress with the size of "let fit, I tell you." In general, I’m all like that in a custom-sized shirt, with a bouquet of roses, with a dress and a huge box of cosmetics as a gift, with Polaroid with 3 cassettes (who doesn’t know, the one that the photos go out immediately ready) on a birthday in another country, with strangers who almost always speak in an incomprehensible language, who confusedly ask: who it is and what it is doing here. The explanations caused even more confusion. In general, on February 5, 1996, when we left by train to Odessa, at the station where the train stood for 2 minutes, we kissed for the first time. It was the maximum I could get in all these years, for everything I’ve gone through. For some it is funny. For me at the time, it was an incredible achievement.

At home, I had a serious conversation with my mother. She had a lot of questions: what’s happening, why all this, you have that few girls here, in your country, in your city? What kind of love? You shake a girl’s head, she has a guy she’s going to marry. It was like descending from the Everest into the basement of the village. How to get married when? No one has written about it, no one has it to me. Wait until I write a letter and get a response (it took 20-25 days) there was no time, and I decided to take this step: I go to visit acquaintances who have a phone, the girl goes to visit her acquaintance with the phone, I call around the city and we talk. Well, I understand, I pay the interstate when the bill comes. It was better than letters. I called and asked about the guy and the rest. The girl replied, "Well, as if in the correspondence we are friends, you don't write anything like that. Yes, I was surprised by your arrival, your gifts, your attention. And what next?

And really, what next? What could be next? After all, it’s not going to the neighbor’s yard for a date, not even to the neighbor’s town. In service, I had a promotion, I was pursued by a praporstnik, and by the end of the second year of my service, I was free to come home for a night. Calling together on the weekend, we agreed that the girl would come to visit me "on the sea" in the summer. In the summer she came to visit with her older brother, visited for almost a week. I brought the roses from the military section in the morning, quietly placed at her bed. I tried to always be around. Several times he raised questions about his feelings, but these conversations ended with nothing. She went home, and I fell into thought again. I am 20 years old, I am a soldier, I have no apartment, I cannot live with my parents. What can I offer a girl? Heaven in the shell? In a foreign country, for her.

My mother, looking at my suffering, said, if you are so stubborn, you want to do something more: get married, rent an apartment, bring it here and live. All of it! Parental welfare. pinch under the ass received, I agree that I will come to visit in September. I bought a ring, took a vacation at my own expense - and forward. To the ring I bought a box in the form of a rose: a green stem, and on top a barley box in the form of a button, which is opened. There is the ring. I remember coming, I am already more pleased, how warmer the meeting. Pulled into another room, she stood on the couch to be one growth with me. I give her this rose, she smiles, she likes the gift. But she doesn’t suspect it’s a gift with a surprise. I open the button, she is in shock: I ask: Will you marry me? She answered: Yes!

We have been together for 24 years. We had 2 weddings: marriage in Moldova and marriage registration in Ukraine, we changed 7 rental apartments, lived in Moldova for a year and a half, where we had a son. We live in Ukraine and have two children. And I tell my wife every day that I love her, that she is the most. I cannot imagine life without her. I am sure I am very lucky that this happened. When my eldest son, at an adult, conscious age, listened to our story of how a family was formed, he said, “If it were not for you, I would never believe that this is true and that can be.”