I want to tell you about the most dear and beloved person - my mother. She is no longer in the world - and nevertheless she helps me now.
We had a big friendly family: dad, mom, three brothers, a sister and I - the youngest. My father worked as an agronomist on a collective farm. Mom was in charge of the household. A big house, a garden, a cow, a lot of all kinds of birds, but there are five of us. I don't know how my mother managed to manage all this.
She went to bed later than everyone else and woke up earlier than everyone else, fed everyone with breakfast, accompanied her father to work, us to school. Our house has always been clean and cozy, in the yard there is order. Mom never complained about anything.
Years passed, but we, children, did not really delve into household chores, we simply did not understand how difficult it was for mom, how tired she was, the family is big. Mom was always at work, always doing something. And in her rare free moments, she would sit down at a sewing machine, start sewing something and softly sang: “Why are you standing, swaying, a thin mountain ash …” This was her time of rest.
Years passed, the father died. Brothers and sister grew up, learned and left in all directions. After school, I entered the Agricultural Institute, received a specialty zootechnician, worked in our collective farm. I got married, and I had children, but my mother and I lived in our parental home. Mom was still at her post, the same household, the same order as under Father.
I loved my job very much, I was more lost on it than I was at home. Mom is there, so everything is fine. I completely detached myself from household chores - as my mother said, so be it.
One of the winter days my mother was gone. I didn't know, I didn't even know what to do. I started to be late for work, started up the garden and the entire household, there was no time to deal with the children, complete collapse and confusion in everything.
I was sitting somehow, roaring, and suddenly I heard my mother’s voice:
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- Calm down, daughter, you will succeed, and I will help you.
At first, no matter what business I started, everything turned out wrong and not right. I sit, sit, again I hear my mother's voice and her prompt. This is how I lived and live, my mother is always with me. Every morning she wakes me up for work - a light knock on the window, her shadow and voice:
- Daughter, wake up, it's time.
One evening I went into the kitchen and saw that my mother was standing by the sink and washes the dishes. I was dumbfounded. I say mentally:
- Mom, how do you wash the dishes if you died?
I hear in response:
- Died - not dead, but the dishes need to be washed.
This is how we continue to live on - me and my mother. I close my eyes and see my mother as if she were alive: thin, short, already old and slightly hunched over. She looks at me with her sky-blue eyes, her hair is gray, she smiles a little with the corners of her mouth.
I'll tell everyone: take care of your mothers, take care. Mom is the most sacred thing on earth.
Rimma Antonovna PERKOVA, Anapa, Krasnodar Territory
