The Curiousness of the Circles of Destiny (almost by Pasternak)
Five years ago I had to fly to Sochi for half a day for a symposium, a lecture to read. While flying, it turned out that there was another event with my performance the next day.
There was laziness to fly here and there, I stayed there and had a free day in Sochi.
Reflecting on the fairy plans of free killing of free time, I remembered that there is a girl living in Sochi from our still student Uffim campaign of the 80s - Angela M-Yang, the real name, the Hussars - to be silent!!A thin low black Armenian, with a slight eastern smoothness of movements and a proud almost nobility profile with a compulsory light nose.
Thirty years without seeing each other.
Two or three phone calls – and here’s her number I have: “Angelina, hello!” – “Aaaaaaaaa!” You are where?? »
I stand in the agreed place, I look around, I wait.
Outside the corner is something black, full, curly!At the same time shouting “Hello! The same one! Where are the cousins? Shake is waiting! Go to us! Where are things? Time to eat! Why one?“!”
She finally allowed her husband to “no feed me for at least half an hour.”
“After the institute, I was assigned to Nagorno-Karabakh, a children’s hospital. Married, husband - a small chief in the council of trade unions of the Republic.
The first child was born, then the second. The house was built, furniture, crystal, carpets.
The war began. We thought we would wait for it to calm down soon, but when at night the turn came through the first floor window and scattered the vases in the servant, we left the beautiful house with all the things and ran with one suitcase to my hometown, near Sukhumi.
My husband went to work, I am again a pediatrician in the clinic. Slowly mastered, the father shared a small piece of land. They built houses, furniture and dishes.
When the first bullet broke the window of the first floor again, I was not even surprised, as if I was expecting something like this.
As a doctor, I could be taken at any time, even from home, even from work and taken to the front. No one even asked me, the pediatrician, if I could do anything. I swapped, changed the clothes. Small wounds under local anesthesia. The fractures broke. Contuitions and diarrhea treated.
Leaving and leaving work were prohibited, strictly monitored, constant control.
We were allowed to carry seriously wounded or sick people to Sochi, accompanied by military patrol.
I found acquaintances there and, hiding under the seat, took out the children one by one, left them there, gave money, as much as it was.
On the next Thursday, she asked the chief doctor to leave for Friday, saying that the strawberries should be cooked for the winter. I left in the office a coat, a replacement shoe, a spare dress, a bag, absolutely all things - on Monday, after all, back to work.
Her husband blinked almost like a mummy, cut off her finger and spotted the spots. I called an ambulance and went to Sochi. We arrived at the hospital, I drove the cockpit with the driver to the reception room, the driver went back to the car, and my husband and I went out through another move and went to the children faster.
Under Sukhumi there was a new house with furniture, all things, even bags could not be taken with you.
I sat in the shadowy courtyard of a modest two-story house in the suburb of Sochi, silently drank the chacha under her cheering about the queues to her in the clinic, about her son and daughter, who have already graduated from institutions and live and work in Moscow, about grandchildren, about common institutional friends - who where and who...
No need of war.