Not a funny story.
Mother
My mother was the sixth child in the family. She had five brothers. There were two other sisters who died of hunger and sickness before their mother was born. From the stories of my grandmother, which my mother later told me, these were extremely intelligent and independent girls. At the age of five, they stayed alone and played all day in the yard. By the time the parents normally had to come back from the field, they started cleaning their homes and cleaning their foods. They did not know how to cook, but did all the preparatory work. And then one of them walked onto a curved tree growing in the yard and waited for the silhouettes of parents and older brothers to appear on the dusty road.
These were terrible times. Terrible for us, accustomed to comfort and abundance, and then, for them, it was just life. Regular hunger and food shortages were common. One day, one of my acquaintances gave me a snack. Not even the whole, but only half the fish of the tail part. They cooked this fish three times until the third time it was fully boiled in the soup. Therefore, when the grandmother, having five boys on her neck, learned that she was in a position, she went to the local rural doctor to "do whatever." The rural doctor examined the grandmother and told her to come tomorrow. On the way home, the will of fate met the doctor and my grandfather, my mother’s father. They talked, and the doctor told me that the grandmother was coming, and also told me why she was coming. When my grandfather came home, my grandmother went in. It was decided that there would be another child in the family. About eight months later my mother was born. With the older brother, the age difference was eighteen years. Grandfather, who was already in his age, became sentimental and changed greatly with the birth of his mother. Prior to this, a proud and strict man began to slowly grab sweets from the festive tables, where he was invited. Previously, this man rarely touched food in other people's homes. But for his little daughter, he took that risk. Every day, on the way home, I bought fifty to seventy grams of caramel in a rural store. This is for my youngest and most beloved daughter. After dinner, he tossed my mother on the back, despite the fact that she was already big, and the neighbors laughed at her and mocked her. I know it’s not good to spoil children, and I often think whether I should raise my daughter or spoil her like my grandfather did to my mother. Many years have passed and the most bright thing in the memory of her mother remains just how her father danced her childhood. This is remembered for a lifetime.
Grandfather was a very strong and beautiful man. The photos show his beautiful nose, thin compressed lips, large eyes and a tired look. He was a very solid man. Grandfather died early. My mother was about seven years old. One night he was hit by a motorcycle and escaped from the scene of the crime. With a broken spine he lay by the road until the very morning, and whispered for help, but the passers took him for a simple alkas and just crossed. A woman recognized him and called for help. For a few more hours he was lying in hot agony on a hospital bed. The pain was so severe, and he squeezed his scales so that his teeth cracked with a loud thunder and flew out white pieces onto the wooden floor. After he died and performed an examination, the doctor did not believe that there was a man of the age on the table. All internal organs were as healthy and strong as the twenty-year-old. If it were not an accident, the doctor said, this person would easily have lived to a hundred years. My health was really jealous. Early in the spring, my grandfather went to prepare the fields for the seed of rice. All work was done in cold water. My grandfather worked in a cotton cotton short trousers wrapped up on the most slats and stretched with a tough rope. Nothing on their feet. All day in the cold weather, naked feet in the water. I didn’t even dream of shoes at the time. In his pocket was a few slices of burning pepper that he chewed. I don’t know exactly what to taste or what to warm up.
After the death of my grandfather, my life changed a lot. It has changed to the worse. The grandmother had to work even more, and the children were getting less and less attention. Her mother grew up among the brothers of the hooligans, and it is not surprising that when she grew up, she had a clear idea of the concepts of the boy. About honor and dignity and how to keep the word. Winning the respect of the courtyards is not easy. She gave me good advice and taught me all the wisdom of life. Fight in the nose, the mother said, when a dispute on the street cannot be resolved peacefully. Never provoke battles, do not get into them, but if you are brought and humiliated, strike first. Never cry if you are offended. It will be even worse.
Be the first, my mother said.
And if he was bigger and stronger, I asked.
Take a stone, she said.
She was my friend and older brother. My mom taught me to whisper loudly and play guitar. A man who can play guitar will be successful in any company, she said. She played very well, and literally in a week I mastered the basic asas and broke simple court songs about love. She taught me to dance waltz. I didn’t give this importance until the graduation ball. At the graduation ball, for the first time, I was really rolling around with the most beautiful girl in the classroom in the middle of the acting hall to the loud applause of classmates, teachers and a crying mother.
When my sister was born, my mother promised that she would continue to give birth until there was another girl. From the bitter experience she knew how hard it was to grow a girl alone without a sister. Fortunately, the third child in our family was also a girl. I now have two sisters I love very much.
After I got yellow in the second grade, she was told that I had a weak liver. In her teenage years, when we often gathered with classmates for parties, she understood that there was a high risk of poisoning with cheap alcoholic beverages. To prohibit going to such gatherings she thought it was not right, and so before each such seating, my mother drove a large note into my pocket, and said that if I wanted to drink, I would grab a good, expensive vodka. It was a lot of money, and I realized that I could raise the half of the home budget overnight. Drinking was terrible. Not because I demanded the body, but rather to show that I am an adult. Money in your pocket. But I did not touch them. I’m 30 and I don’t drink alcohol at all.
My mother always did the right thing. To be honest, I did not think so at the time. And only now do I realize how faithful and wisdom-filled her teachings were. When I insulted my sister and she went to complain to her mom, my mom often added to her for complaining. My brother is always right, she said. Naturally, I was ashamed – I brought my sister and she was not justly punished again. It made me think. The next time I did not show. We did, but not so much, because we were children.
In school, she forced me to study. She always said that her children would earn bread with a pen, not a spade. New books and textbooks have never been paid for. And I studied. Not to say “excellent”, but to say a solid four.
When I was a child, when I saw children whispering through the throat and standing on their feet or hanging on their mother’s arm, I didn’t understand how this was possible. Our mother never screamed at us, but we were terribly afraid of her gaze. Through the finely folded lips and eyes, I realized that I was guilty, for what I was guilty, and what was waiting for me at home. Sometimes I got a puppy from my mother, like all the children up to adulthood. But after I was in the second grade of university, brought home my first self-employed salary, after which my mother cried all night, my attitude changed drastically. I became the head of the family. I got dinner for the first time. I stopped washing my clothes, and this duty was transferred to my sisters. My mother listened to me and asked me for advice. I understood that I was responsible and this was emphasized, at first glance, by not significant household orders.
Later, she began to make orders. She learned to sew by herself, from magazines and books, and she sewed everything. Men’s shirts were especially good. She ordered only the wealthiest shirts, as the price for them was relatively high. During the night, she could hide and sew four shirts from scratch. In high school I had the most fashionable shirts of all shades and from the most expensive fabric at the time and all sorts of styles and shades. Silk, sugar, satin a little later than linen. For me she sewed them, so they sat like cast, there was no fold on me. She wrapped the curls so that the clothes lay around my body like a mannequin and at the same time were extremely comfortable. After she was gone, I was horribly uncomfortable wearing shirts bought in the market or in the store. None of the shirts I bought after did not sit, as those that my mother coated me.
My mother was an extraordinary talented person. Talented in everything and persistent. One day, she got a small cut from a newspaper in her hands, showing schemes of how to tie macrame. He got the moth of a thick rope and tried the nodes until the very morning. By the morning, she tied a small abajur instead of a luster.
She was an unusual cook. She made me a gourmet, constantly feeding me with the most unusual dishes. My friends loved to visit me. Mom could cook from nothing in half an hour, something exquisite and unusual. Thanks to her, I got a good understanding in the kitchen and learned to cook well and quickly.
So when my mother disappeared and I completely plunged into adulthood, I realized how much she taught me. How much it helped me that I was able to pass on to my mother. How little I could give her.
When I came to the Emirates, I talked to my mom almost every day via Skype. My mother asked me to write her letters every day. I did not know what to write about. The day before her tragic death, she suddenly wrote to me that she was very concerned about me, that she felt that I would soon be very ill, and asked to share what I had on my heart. I was very surprised and thought that these were just baseless stupid experiences. In a few hours she disappeared. It took a while and I realized that there is nothing stronger than motherly love.