The village in which I now live is located on the outskirts of the district center. Residents habitually continue to call our part of the city. We are separated from the main part of the city by the railway. So it turns out that the city is there, but here, as was the village, so they stayed both in lifestyle and status. Even on the minibuses it is written - Mr. N. - Settlement. TO.
After 30 years of urban life, I had to get used to the fact that everyone with you is greeting you, that you can stop suddenly and ask - "How is Lyubka there? Were you busted after yesterday? "At first I flinched when I was asked this or that way. Caught on myself puzzled judging views - What, they say, is difficult to answer? And then I got used to it and now I can respond in the same vein - "And what will become of it, with Lyubka?" Although, I do not know Lyubka and, moreover, do not know what happened to her yesterday. But it became easier to live - such sociable comrades began to look at me more kindly.
The village is not big, there are a lot of people. But there are always those who, without knowing it, attract attention. Such people are remembered. They can not be separated from the general mass.
So, almost from the first day I noticed one woman. Slender, with a thin waist. And all the time in long, gorgeous dresses - that white, then red in white peas, then gently pink. Even on a bike goes to them. She does not look funny, no. Everything is harmonious, as if it should be so. Svetlana. This name suits her so!
That day I went to the post office to pay the receipts. The people were at first sight a little, but the queue was still formed. I got up behind everyone. The queue moved slowly, and people all stopped by and went in. A crowd was formed. At one point, the whole crowd floundered in my direction. I did not have time to take a step back and almost fell on the back standing. What's the matter?.
In the crowd formed a passage, at the post counter - emptiness, not a single person. Svetlana. Black fluffy dress. Black ribbon in the hair. They all silently passed it to the post counter. I greeted everyone. No one answered. So do I. For a while the passage did not close. A few minutes later she left. The crowd crunched at me, now behind me. I again did not have time to take a step forward and almost fell on the front standing. Something happened? The trouble? Everyone is silent..
She married three times. I buried all my husbands. Two died, one died from illness. Three sons. It was. Two died - an accident, an accident, a third - fell ill, died. There were two brothers. Too already is not present. That week, the only nephew crashed on a motorcycle.
It became stuffy. I jumped out into the fresh air. Near the church, park. I went to the park. Playground. Swing. Mom with children. Grandmothers with grandchildren. And someone will never become a grandmother ....