My small a pigeon ofmy small a pigeon quietly sits, without moving at all as on a pole, on an edge of a bus seat, and looks at me, almost without blinking, the big sad eyes. Its white fur hat with ears - tops, tense up to the eyebrows, closes from me its cheeks, pink from a frost, cut under the boy hair - at school it caught a pediculosis, and mother had to cut shortly it, - it buried the lips which became gray from cold in the bulged collar of a jacket and them it is not visible too. Only her eyes are visible, big and gray as at mother, eyes which watch at me so seriously that I will feel ill at ease and I turn away away as though attracted with what occurs around, actually just trying will cope with the emotions...
We spend this Saturday and Sunday morning together. For the first time for last, probably, one and a half months. Mother, at last, allowed us will meet, terribly worrying for one thousand reasons: whether I will meet her on bus station in time whether it will freeze on the road, whether it will be hungry whether I will be able to put her on the bus on the way back. We managed all this - let mother so do not worry, we, not small!
First I worry really a little - whether there I stand whether I passed its bus, examining some fraction of a second the pigeon flocks battling for bread crumbs at the next stall whether it will arrive in general - suddenly they changed the mind? But when from the old “Ikarus“ splashed by autumn dirt on the glasses, at last, the confused ridiculous figure in a red jacket with a small bag in a hand appears, and with the lost look looks around, looking for among tens of adults hurrying diversely, the one who waits for it, I with relief sigh and with all the might I give it signs a hand.
In a second she notices me. Its pale face involuntarily stretches in a happy smile, the hand involuntarily waves to me in reply, and we run each other towards and awkwardly we stop absolutely close.
- Hi! - I give smacking kiss to her in lips as from - for a hare cap not
it turns out to kiss her on a cheek.
- Well, how are you doing? As reached?
- Well, we will go. Let`s get on here trolleybus, then we will come on “Crown“ to buy all necessary, and home in heat! You did not freeze?
- Not - and.
- Well and it is good.
Ya I take it by hand, and we joyfully walk towards the bus-stop on which not less than one hundred people crowd. We are lucky - our trolleybus comes in a minute, almost empty so we happy flop on empty seats and we look out of the dirty window.
Having gone out of the trolleybus at the stop and having gone to shopping center, still reserved, it considerably quickens and begins to jump skipping before me.
- What will we buy? - I ask
- I do not know - she answers.
- Well, that you wanted? - I am not appeased. In reply she shrugs shoulders.
- Let`s buy tangerines, such small and awfully sweet? - I speak.
- Give! - she answers.
- Also we will buy still chocolate, and juice, and … you want pizza? - I continue to tempt her further.
- Not - and.
- You do not want pizza?! But all children love pizza!
- Not - and. I do not want.
- And what else?
- I do not know … I so want to make
by it pleasant that I am ready to spend all money what I have in a pocket. In the end I bethink that everything that we bought it food.
- In school nothing is necessary to You?
- Not - and.
- No, anything.
- Look, here fliker, both books children`s, and handles with pencils … as a result we buy
a fliker in the form of a heart, the beautiful handle with
some fantastic dragons and princesses and the children`s hygienic set “Little Red Riding Hood“ at the sight of which at it eyes joyfully light up.
With full bags we go home, more true there where now there lives the father - to the house without conveniences on the suburb. But it is not terrible. Now I will light the stove, and the house will be filled with the recovering heat. I will bring waters, I will make a lunch.
- You want to eat?
- I Want?
- And what you will be?
- I do not know.
- Can pizza now we will prepare?
- Not - and, there is no wish.
- Then we will quickly bungle boutiques (sandwiches) with sausage, cheese and mayonnaise.
I rush to heat the furnace, then I rush behind water, at the same time I cut
sausage, cheese and I put boutiques in the microwave oven - the furnace. My fingers are all thumbs, I am excited, how on the first appointment. On a table the full disorder is in a flash formed, but I do not hurry to bring order - will be in time. Now I hurry to be only with it. And the plate will be waited.
We chew boutiques enough, washing down them with the burning coffee with milk, silly over something we giggle, we drop pieces of sausage on a floor, we neigh as fools, we watch TV, we play computer games, we study English, we mold from plasticine of blue elephants and yellow monkeys, and in the end, tired, in embraces of each other, we fall asleep.
Or rather, she sleeps, razmetavshis in a dream, just as it is done by her father. I look at its children`s innocent face, a fair short hair, a father`s Lenin forehead, and on eyes the tear involuntarily runs. It is good that nobody sees me and I can cry, without being ashamed of the tears.
I remember that time when it was absolutely kroshenny and helpless. As it for the first time went. As every day I took away it from a garden. As we together, a hand in a hand, went to a market and bought something tasty for all family. I remember how it incidentally overturned on itself the TV and did not understand that stir which caused. As clapped mother and the father the small handles on cheeks as if speaking “The father and mother, you are the best. I so love you“.
All in the past. How long and as recently all this was. All that is called to simple and such unclear people the word “happiness“. Usual happiness. Human happiness. Not far-fetched, “cine“, but the most usual, unattractive, what us does by people.
We cannot give definition to the fact that such happiness. Love, money, glory. We suffer and confused in definitions. The more we try to understand what is it - the more we get confused, substituting everything for what surely has to make us happy, beautiful book words and that, finally, for some reason us such does not do. And, everything is so simple. Happiness is what you feel sorry about when you lose it. in the Morning I make for
a breakfast until it is keen on game at the computer. At our disposal two more hours. We watch some children`s TV program, we repeat a rhyme which to it was set at school, again we play on the computer.
It is time for us to gather. We together brush teeth, we wash, brush the hair. I bring elementary order to the house, I make a bed. We put on and we leave the house. In total. Appointment is ended.
I here, it already sits in the bus and looks at me the serious eyes. For some moment it seems to me that in these gray, not childly wise eyes, I read a reproach. Reproach to. Reproach to all of us, adults. For our egoism, for our adult games from which children most of all suffer. Such eyes often happen at clever dogs and silent horses. Eyes, in which answers to all questions of life. And all understand eyes which all know. Only cannot tell. Or rather, they to us shout, but we, adults, we are deafs.
… There is a young fellow, the bus driver. In a minute the bus will be got, will begin to roar as a wild animal and will whirl away from me a part me, - no, all me, without having left on the platform anything, except pain, repentance and fear. Will take away my hope. My happiness. My daughter who, appear, always was much while she was near, and, it appeared, there is no nothing left. Anything. What here can be corrected? How to return what was? And who is right and who is guilty? What can be made? Tell? What can be made when the father and mother get divorced?