Rus Articles Journal

The house of young people of

Ya I celebrate anniversary in cafe. Cozy, beautiful room. Tables burst with viands. Of course, I worry. The last round before reception of guests. The entrance door has a waitress and to someone talks, waves hands. Approached, I look. Behind a door a tiny starushechka in an old, shabby coat, in huge, not on growth, valenoks. She quietly tells something to the waitress, and that does not listen to it, squeezes out for a door. “What is the matter?“ - I asked. The woman waved a hand and departed. “A chocolate I want,“ - the grandmother said in low tones. I took her by hand, and we entered coffee. Brought to a show-window with confectionery and told:“ Choose“. She pointed a finger at the smallest chocolate bar. I bought. The old woman left, strong gripping a chocolate.

She reminded me my old grandmother Anysia Andreevna. She lived in an old age with my mother and me. The grandmother gave birth to sixteen children, seven people survived. Her son Alexander died at the front. She received cheap pension for the son. One it, probably, would starve to death. And so its pension, mother`s small salary and my alimony. Grandmother`s old - a prestary coat I will remember to death.

of Cafe where I celebrated anniversary, is in the building which at us in the town is called “The house of young people“. Built it for young families. But young people for some reason did not fall in love with this house. The name remained, and there live old men and old women there. Those who have no children or they are not necessary to children. In the building there is a first-aid post. If something happens the injection will be given.

it is not visible to

in their Winter. Cold at us in Siberia winters. And here in the spring they appeared on benches. Sit having ruffled up as sparrows. Grandmothers in old scarfs, grandfathers in shabby caps. You look and do not believe that they built the city, raised children, enjoyed life. People pass, and it seems to me that these people try not to look at them. Old men as if are in another dimension.

Ya not rich, but not poor. I am not old pensioner. And the husband still works. Ah, this money, they are always not enough. I was lost in day-dreams. There was at me a little spare cash. Where I would spend them? It seems to me, on old men from “The house of young people“. I to them would gather a lot of warm clothes, winters at us in Siberia such long and cold. And even in the summer I would order the bus and brought all on the beautiful blossoming glade. And on a glade of that would put tables with food. I would buy everything that they liked to eat, I would fill decanters with sweet wine. It is not necessary to them much, they are old. And then the violinist will appear on a glade, he will execute him a fine melody. That their soul finished and as the bird flew over the earth.

What to present to you, the old man?
of Food tasty? Or perhaps a coat,
that your body to warm? you Answer with
to me: “All not that.
Ya I want to be the person,
Ya I want to communicate with people.
Ya I want to love children.
I favourite I want to be children“.

you Want

, I will give heart to you, I Will present
to you happiness of throats,
That you drunk with happiness were, That you again life fell in love with
?“
Became silent I, you are silent. then you told
A:“ All not that. you See
, there will come the winter soon,
Present me, perhaps, a coat... “

Siberian