I sat in the kitchen, cooking. The daughter approaches and says:
“Mommy, when I’m going to work, I’ll buy you food and pay for the service.
I was blinded.
She is 29 years old.
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26.06.2022
Nina walked through her country on the third day..When she looked at, translated, touched endless little things dear to the heart - old read books, photographs in homemade frames, clothes in the closet, simple dishes in the servette.
“Yes,” Nina understood, “son is right, she has no reason to stay here. It barked something. have to sell. Jurkish money is needed in this Germany.
She has not seen her son for seven years. As I left then with my wife... only calls when something is needed. Now the money was needed. It requires. And Nina has only one in Khrushchev in Izmajlovo, and this...
Previously, they lived as a large family in a spacious three-bedroom apartment in Sokolniki. Ninina’s parents were still alive, a beloved husband was alive. When Jurka grew up and married, and Nina was widowed, the son insisted on the exchange of an apartment. Nina humbly moved to a single house in a strange area. Then Jurk and his wife moved to Germany and sold their home.
Nina was alone. 6 months a year she spent in the country, where she spent her childhood, where a small apple tree and straw garden bloomed in the spring, smelled sirene and jasmine.
Selling the house was the end of Nina's life. But a son is a son. There was no exit. Nina accepted it.
To buy this piece of land with a tiny old house instantly agreed neighbor Nina Kolka. The forty-year-old good neighbor, Jyrki's mate, with whom his son grew up here, was playing, riding a bicycle.
formed the documents. Nina immediately transferred the money to her son. She cleaned the house and the plot and clicked through the fence of Kolku to give the keys.
“Aunt Nin,” asked Kolka, “That’s so! I signed the paper. Live a hundred years, it is yours. You cannot sell it anymore. For me, this money does not play a special role, and Yurek will have enough of you to do it! They are insatiable with their wife.
by Olga Malceva