I had three aunts, two dads sisters and one mom. We didn’t love her very much – she was cold, ulcerative, often rude. The fathers were kind, constantly chatting with us, three nephews, constantly saying that they love. But one day, my dad died, and my mom went crazy of sorrow – for a few months she could not recover. Daddy's sisters were constantly coming, talking about something with her, grabbing us sympathetically on the head. My mom’s sister came less often, but she brought us food, cleaned the house, bathed my mom, scratched her.

One day good aunts came and locked up with their mother, as suddenly came a bad aunt, and almost kicked them out of the house. We wanted to rush to their defense, but suddenly our beloved aunts began to curse us, cry out and wish death to our mother. We hated my aunt, but she lived with us for a few months. She never gentled with us, but the house was always clean, there was a hot lunch, my mom took her medications on time. When there were problems in school, my aunt went and got it all right; when I broke my arm, my aunt on her arms ran with me to the injury point.

Later my mother recovered, life re-entered, and a long time later we learned that my sister’s daddy after his death tried to persuade my mother to sign papers to renounce all real estate and assets in their favor, thus leaving us poor without a roof over our heads. Aunt died at the age of 72, without changing her cold temper, but this did not prevent us from constantly saying that we love her and there is no person dearer to us.