Holiday reminiscences continuation ofI will abstrusely not tell Starokonstantinov`s story, or Starkona as its some call, I will tell only that it is the city in which I was born and to which I came back every summer, to vacation. Small, dusty and provincial - it seems, there is in it nothing remarkable and entertaining. Except one: it is small, shchenyach a gentle, inconsistent piece my far I, my childhood. And I came to love it very much when the love was sincere and unconditional. When did not know for as why, did not look for benefits and did not weigh. When just fell in love and loved.
And here, twenty years later, I who grew old and the stranger, go along these streets which so well knew, and I do not learn them. I do not learn almost anything - so everything changed, and my heart which was so torn here fights exactly and wearily. My heart is silent.
Here gate and the yard on which I hundreds of times ran, climbed trees, tore berries. And here the small river from which laying we caught fish got into the boat and floated to bathe to the bridge, dived from the bridge. There is a house on which we rushed barefoot, ate bread and butter and cucumbers, played cards. But everything changed. Changed forever. And therefore my heart is silent.
Almost all who once constructed died and inhabited this old house. The same who was then children dispersed all over the world as inconsolable Agasfera, and only some lascivious children found the road back and that to remember nothing.
We are met by the young woman. Embraces, kisses on both cheeks as do in the village. Wife of my cousin. We enter the house and, without interrupting the excited conversation, we change clothes, sit down to a table, we have dinner. Light - so call the wife of my cousin, fusses around, something asks, answers, comes, leaves. On character she is a typical Ukrainian who does not stop for a minute.
I want to walk and to make it to one that, without hurrying to remember everything, but Sveta does not release me. We together with children go to shop, we buy stuff, we go outside, we go on it, and I try to remember and learn that city of the childhood in which it was happy. I try, and I cannot.
We come back. At a threshold we are waited by the thin young man. This is my younger cousin Vova. Thin, black and all some lost. He muffledly tells something on - Ukrainian. We, being confused, we embrace, and we go to the house.
There comes his mother and my aunt Lyusya. She on a habit sighs, gasps, something tells. Something asks. I am awfully glad to see them, but I want to sleep. I have an allergy. I sneeze, I cough, I have a stuffy nose. But to us do not allow to have a rest. We sit down to a table. We eat, we drink, we remember …
Next day I have time to look round. The house underwent radical changes. In it made capital repairs, stuck the mass of equipment. Any washing machines, microwave ovens, computers and home theaters. But it is cluttered awfully up. In a sink the mountain of dirty ware, in a bathroom everything is filled up with linen.
I leave to the yard. Hens, ducks, rabbits, goat, sheep, beehives, kitchen garden. And all in the same state, as the house.
We almost do not see Vova. Having hardly come from work, he runs to the economy, and potters with it till midnight. I notice that Sveta, such kind with us, is not kind with it at all. They constantly quarrel.
Till a lunch I walk on the city. I go to the house once built by my grandfather in whom we once lived in the summer. High fence, vicious dog. In the house there live strangers. Towards strongly drunk person comes across. Streets dusty and littered. I do not derive any pleasure from walk and I come back.
I am more and more convinced that, despite material welfare (the aunt worked abroad long time and provided children to all necessary), in the house there is no most important. Harmony. The wife does not get on with the husband. The husband does not get on with the wife. Mother does not get on with children.
I admit, to me from it and sadly and at the same time is not present. Sadly - because it is always a pity when your loved ones quarrel, bringing dissonance not only in the souls, but also in souls of those who nearby. But it is not sad because I once again find confirmation of the truth which is brought down in blood that money and wellbeing separate more often, but does not rally even the closest people.
It would seem, they have what everyone dreams now of. There are all these conveniences of life, comfort, there is the one who will be able to contain them even if tomorrow they will be left without work. But there is no most important - a consent. Respect and understanding of each other. However, all as always. Everything, as at all. The devil always demands something in exchange, and it is not less in any way of what gives.
Vova quarrel with Sveta every evening. It is not happy with something all the time, and it, apparently, also is not going to concede. Reaches that it, without hesitating of us, continually bursts in shrill shouts, probably, thus, trying to solve the created problem.
Nothing helps: neither extensive economy, nor material support from mother, nor the general child.
Next day I with the daughter visit relatives on the fatherly line - the grandfather, the cousin and her family. Before I tens of times drew to myself in imagination this meeting twenty years later. We come, all terribly are surprised, ask us as we, do not want to release us. But whether I have too rich imagination, whether someone is more reserved in manifestation of the feelings, but everything, as always, occurs is banal, is avaricious and uninteresting that already a minute later you begin to regret that you in general came. However not, I am not sorry.
We ring a door, we are opened by the unfamiliar man, we are interested whether it is possible to see such - that and such, we are let in, to us to a meeting there is Wan`s grandfather. He is 88 years old and it almost blind, but is still vigorous and tightened. The colonel of tank troops in a stock. Old guard which it is visible far off. Oh, damn, the grandfather why you was so a little in my life? You are one, any bad word when the father divorced mother who passed all war, and never said, the optimism and confidence eclipsed all others. Why I almost did not know you, the grandfather? Why, grandfather? Soon and you will leave, the grandfather. You will leave forever, and I even also do not recognize you. Never I learn any more.
At the beginning he does not recognize me - simply does not see. Then, having distinguished, kisses on both cheeks and begins to speak. He speaks accurately as if before a system.
My sister Irina with the husband sit down on a sofa. The peanut creeps out of the room. He bears to us the toys and smiles. The others in a stupor. The rough pleasure is not shown. My daughter, their direct relative, do not even notice. Nobody offers tea (and once promised the whole world!) .
Having squeezeed out hour, we leave. Irina goes to see off us and all road complains. Complains of the grandfather, of relatives, of life. It is visible that it is very dissatisfied with both that, and it, and the third. And again conversation comes about money. As everything went!
After a meeting I at heart have unpleasant deposit. All are busy with the very important issues. All live. Flounder in the problems which to themselves and create.
The elder brother could not arrive. It on earnings in Kiev and it has problems. Problems with the new wife. With the apartment. House. Well, with everything that “life“ is called at them.
I am imagined also by it the happiest of them. I have neither house, nor the apartment. I was left by the wife. The my daughter becomes more adult, the less she wants to see me. I have no capitals, business and other vital joys. I have no confidence in tomorrow. All the savings I spend for myself, for the daughter and for the family to me now people which all become lyubimy every year.
When I will come back home, I will sit month flat broke and to save on everything. And now I am represented by all such standard of safe life. I feel sincerely sorry for them because I am really happy person. I am not interested in their houses, cars, the capitals at all. I to them am indifferent.
After a lunch we with the grandmother go on a cemetery, to visit mogilka of her husband, my grandfather, and the son, my uncle. Nearly an hour we go under the scorching heat on a huge cemetery on which a great lot of young people lies. There is a very young girl who hardly executed 20. And married couple: to it 35, it 33. Lie near.
At last, we find who was looked for. We remember, we remember, we tear a tall weeds. When we find a mogilka of her son, my uncle, it does not maintain and begins to lament aloud, but in a minute constrains itself.
Hour later we come back. Visit is ended. Tomorrow home.