I remembered when I was a child after the end of the school week, the whole day on the street, sands, hills, snow, fortress was built. Then the snow fell in the winter - not that the fortress, the castle could be built. They lived on the first floor, the snow fell so much that the swarm in the palace building in front of the windows half closed the window (although there were also snowmen throwing the snow, so it was not shameless).

Half Friday, all Saturday My shoes were wet, I ran home, changed my wet socks, put my bags on my feet, then my wet shoes and back on the street.

And on Sunday a strong storm, I had to sit at home. I took my favorite book (Cortis and the Bronze Bird, scattered, without a cover, still lying in the warehouse), read, overwhelmed by the upcoming study. I didn’t have time to read, my mom went to sleep.

In the morning they wake me up, in the apartment it is dark, behind the window, in the kitchen the watermelon boils. On the kitchen window glass - frozen ice, the curtain froze to it. The windows are old, Soviet, with wooden frames, scaly. I don’t want to go anywhere, especially to school. I eat breakfast, dress up and my dad takes me to school. Through the buran, the newly formed swarms, along the freshly submerged paths.

We approach the school, crawl into the bowl, which was opened and it was covered with snow so that it will not be possible to open wide. We climb the doorstep and here I notice that the school is suspiciously dark - no window is burning. Dad shuts the door – it’s closed. On the window next to the door is a sheet of paper. Influenza in quarantine for a week. At that moment, I forgot about the melt and the cold.

He ran the way back, dragging his dad after him and breaking through the swamps, like breaking the Antarctic ice. I came home, the parent went to work, I walked through the frost of sleep in neither eye, poured hot tea with a lemon, wrapped in a puddle, turned on the torcher and began to read yesterday's book, the cat lay in her legs.

And this is probably the best moment in my life. I still sometimes dream: I sit in the heat, drink a delicious tea (why hot tea is always unusually delicious when you come from the cold? I read a good book, the apartment is dark, only a circle of light from the torch. And the snow on the glass shells. No need to go anywhere, no worries, no sadness at all.