This incident happened when I was in the seventh grade (during the Soviet era). I didn't believe in any miracles. There was no talk of religion or mysticism at school or at home.
Sometimes after school I helped my mother deliver mail. She worked two jobs. And I tried as best I could to alleviate her difficult fate. I was amazed how our people love to read. Each family subscribed to thick magazines. Mom's mail bag, stuffed with magazines "Krestyanka", "Rabotnitsa", "Soviet Screen", "Roman-Gazeta", "Neva", "Ogonyok" and many others was often simply overwhelming. And also newspapers! And children's magazines and letters!
I took the press in small packs and skipped across the streets. So, in batches for a couple of hours, all mail was sent to fellow villagers.
For me - a walk and entertainment, and for mom - help. True, even when I released her, she did not rest, but began to cook dinner, worked around the house. I don’t remember my mother was idle.
We lived in a large Ukrainian village. Their house and garden required working hands. The family had four children. All my life, my mother got up before everyone else and went to bed later than everyone else. And I, until I grew up, often avoided any work. She said I had plenty of lessons. And when she began to understand how difficult it was for her mother, she became her assistant.
I remember that September day very well. I did my homework, and when my mother came home, I took a bundle of newspapers, magazines and letters and walked down the street, throwing them into the mailboxes.
It was a sunny and warm September day. The trees along the streets were starting to turn yellow. I stomped along roads strewn with rustling leaves. And the air was so fragrant and clean!
I slowly walked along the path to the newly built House of Culture. Suddenly the sky darkened. This happens in our south. The sun is shining, but a small cloud will come running and cover a piece of the sky. A cloud will pour out in warm streams, and immediately the sky is clear again! The sun shines and smiles again. And a beautiful rainbow appears in the sky! And it hangs for a long time, delighting everyone.
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So on that day, a cloud came up in the same way, and the sky darkened. The sun hid. And the first large drops fell.
In order not to wet my mail, I ran to the building of the House of Culture and jumped inside. The spacious lobby was chilly. I've always left mail here for the library in the building. Without letting go of a stack of newspapers and magazines, I went to the window. It was already pouring out on the street!
I thought: how great that I managed to hide, and the newspapers and magazines did not get wet. And then she heard footsteps behind her. She looked around and shuddered. A guy appeared in the dim lobby. Unfamiliar. But it was very unpleasant and drunk - even at a distance I clearly felt the smell of fumes coming from him. He stood and looked at me. And I got goosebumps.
The guy came up to me. He looked intently and put his hand on my shoulder.
I pulled away, stepped to the door. I felt how my heart was beating loudly and strongly. My throat suddenly caught, I realized that I could not even shout or say something to this guy. And he, insolently grinning, reached out and took from my hands a pack of newspapers and magazines. I threw them on the windowsill.
I looked at him in silence. What a fool! Like a lamb! And I could not help myself. And this freak felt and understood everything. He grinned and tried to hug me. I pushed his hands away.
And at that moment the door opened. Another guy came in. And the one next to me recoiled. The newcomer came up to me. Took a pack of press and said:
- Come on. The rain is over. Calm down, I'm near.
I didn't know this guy either, but obediently followed him. We went out into the street. Sun was shining. The sky was blue-blue!
I looked up and saw a rainbow! Then she turned to look at the one who saved me, saved me from the harassment of some freak, but there was no one next to me. I sobbed and ran to deliver the mail.
Only many years later I told my beloved mother about that case. She described her savior to her. She listened. And then she said that my own older brother came to me. Her son from her first marriage, who died tragically many years ago. And I, a pioneer and a Komsomol member in the past, believed my mother. Maybe he became my guardian angel?
Natalia Grigorievna PRIKHODKO; Peregrebnoye village, Tyumen region
