My mother has been living with a man, like a civil marriage, for 8 years. Once she just brought him to us and said that M. would live with us. M. turned out to be a cool man, treats us as daughters, and loves mom. My mother recently told me how lucky she was. I remembered something.



When I was 16 and my sister was 10, my mother brought us to a one-bedroom apartment to live in Tajikistan. What a gastroenterologist. Just took and brought. He is in love and has nowhere to live. I was upset, but nobody listened to me. Tajik lived with us for six months, roasted us a delicious egg in the morning before school, and turned out to be a very good person. Six months later he moved to Tajikistan, some problems arose. He left, but promised to come back. Mother did not wait for him, met his new love, the present father.



We still lived with a month young boy, 5 years younger than his mother. I was about 14 years old then. The guy bought us chips, soda, and ice cream, and we played fools with him in the evenings.



When I was 11 or 12, my mom brought home a rabbit to live. The former rabbit. He stayed with us at home while my mother was in the factory. He bought us joysticks, pulled games on the disk, and showed us how to play a playstation with a DVD player. He also prepared dinner, fed me lunch and helped me with the lessons. The world man turned out to be a former zeck, and lived with us for about a month. Then disappeared somewhere.



A few weeks ago, my mom told me how lucky she was with her father. And I thought how lucky we all were that all of my mom’s relationship was safe for me and my sister.