Rus Articles Journal

How the fairy tale became bylyyu

Lovely Father Frost! for some reason it seems to me that the majority of the letters coming to you quite so begins. But I can only because I never wrote before you, even in the childhood assume. Though at me was very happy, it is possible even to tell the “gold“ childhood. With noisy New Year`s holidays to which all neighboring children, with a fir-tree under the ceiling and Father Frost with a huge bag of gifts were invited. But it were not you and someone`s father or the uncle disguised as not really new red suit with eternally falling off dirty at all - a white beard. And you, real, for some reason not really indulged us the visits in mine, already such far, Soviet childhood.

my age-mates very much early ceased to believe

in Father Frost. Already to the first class each sane peanut knew well that you are absent. And where we could be convinced of the return? On morning performances in kindergarten? Or on fir-trees in numerous Palaces of culture where the tired and frayed by life uncles and aunts tried to give themselves for the real wizards? Thus, having ceased to believe in your existence of years in seven, I lived in this disbelief as early as years twenty.

During this time at me was born

and the son grew up, and I as could, tried to create for it the New Year`s fairy tale (the benefit, and suits became better, and parents of opportunities have more).

I suddenly during one fine instant I understood that I should not think out more you. You really are! Just all these years for some reason hid. Here you talk to the president in the Kremlin, and here carry the main New Year tree of the country to Moscow, and here visit in hospital of children. Yes you never know still can be affairs at Father Frost! You had own house, mail, deer, a lot of assistants and even own website.

my eldest son talked to you on the Internet, and last winter even visited with the grandmother you Velikiy Ustyug.

You, probably, remember it? His name is Ignat, and he is the best pupil in the class. To Ignat it was already executed 10, and he since three years knows from where children undertake. But he even never thought of that, real you or not. How he can doubt it if he shook hands with you and fed with bread of your favourite deer?

At Ignat the younger brother Maksimka grows up. To it so far only one and a half years, and I still do not know what will be his future life at all. But I know one precisely - in it there will always be a place to the fairy tale. Because somewhere far in the north lives kind fantastic Ded who at last ceased to hide and presented himself to children.

Thanks to you huge and low bow from millions of fathers and mothers, grandmothers and grandfathers and, of course, children for your such fine, but hard work.

Happy New Year you, Father Frost!

Ignat, Maksimka and mother Katya who believes in you now