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Albert Likhanov
Latest Cold
I dedicate to the children of the last war, their deprivation is not at all childish suffering. I dedicate today's adults who did not have to believe in the life of the Truths of Military Childhood. Yes, they always shine and do not express those high rules and non-smoke examples in our memory, - after all, adults are just former children.
Author
Remembering your first classes and the cute heart to the teacher, dear Anna Nikolaevna, I now, when so many years old with that happy and bitter pore, I can definitely say: our mentor loved to be distracted.
It happened, among the lesson, she suddenly devoured his cam in a hot chin, her eyes misty, the eyes were drowned in the swelling or rushed through us, as if by our backs and even for the school wall, she had seen something happily clear, we, of course, did not understand , and here is a visible; her eyes misty even when someone out of us trembled at the board, crumbled chalk, crackle, shyly the nose, looked around at the class, as if searching for salvation, asking the straw for which you can grasp, - and that's suddenly the teacher faded I was sake of her, she forgot to the defendant at the board, forgot us, his disciples, and quietly, as if to themselves and himself, was encouraged by some truth that had a direct attitude towards us.
"Of course," she said, for example, as if Kazakhstani itself, "I will not be able to teach you drawing or music. But the one who has the gift of God, "she immediately calmed himself and us too," this gift will be awakened and will never fall asleep.
Or, shut down, she muttered himself under his breath, again, nothing to do with anyone, something like this:
- If someone thinks as if you can miss only one section of mathematics, and then go further, he is brutally mistaken. In the teaching it is impossible to deceive yourself. Teachers, maybe you will deceive, but yourself - for nothing.
Whether because of us did not pay the words to their Anna Nikolaevna, or because it said she herself, an adult man, but only the last donkey does not understand how interesting the conversations of adults about you teacher and parental morals, Whether all this, taken together, acted on us, because Anna Nikolaevna had a commander mind, and a good commander, as you know, will not take the fortress, if it becomes a beat only in the forehead, - in the word, distract Anna Nikolaevna, her general maneuvers, Pensive, in the most unexpected moment, reflections were surprisingly, the most important lessons.
As we taught us arithmetic, Russian language, geography, I, in fact, almost do not remember, - because it is clear that this teaching was my knowledge. But the rules of life that the teacher uttered to himself, remained for a long time, if not per century.
Maybe trying to inspire a self-esteem, and maybe pursuing a simpler, but an important goal, squeezing our effort, Anna Nikolaevna from time to time repeated one important, visible, truth.
"This is necessary," she said, "still some kind of little - and they will receive a certificate of primary education."
Indeed, multicolored balloons swept inside us. We looked satisfied, friend in friend. It is necessary, Vovka, Krochkin will receive the first document in his life. And me too! And, of course, the feature of Ninka. Every in our class can get - as it is a certificate of education.
At that time, when I studied, primary education was appreciated. After the fourth grade, they gave special paper, and it was possible to complete their teachings on this. True, any of us did not fit this rule, and Anna Nikolayevna explained that it was necessary to finish at least a sevenletk, but the document on primary education was still issued, and we thus became completely competent people.
- You look at how many adults have only primary education! - muttered Anna Nikolaevna. "Ask the houses of your mothers, my grandmothers who finished alone just a primary school, and think carefully after that.
We thought, asked at home and Ahali to ourselves: a little more, and we, we turned out, catch up with many of our relatives. If not an increase, if not in mind, if not knowledge, we approached the equality with people with loved ones and respected.
"It is necessary," Anna Nikolaevna sighed, "some year and two months!" And they will receive education!
Who she sadded? Us? Yourself? Unknown. But something was in these bales a significant, serious, disturbing ...
* * *
Immediately after the spring holidays in the third grade, that is, without a year and two months, a manifestized person, I received coupons for extra food.
Already forty-fifth, our frenzes were too in vain, Levitan declared a new salute every evening, and in the soul of my early in the morning, at the beginning of the life of the day, they crossed, sprinkling, two zippers - a premonition of joy and anxiety for his father. I quickly started up, superstitly removing my eyes from such a murderous opportunity to lose my father on the eve of obvious happiness.
Here in those days, or rather, on the first day after the spring vacation, Anna Nikolayevna gave me the coupons for Curbaning. After the lessons, I have to go to the dining room eight and dine there.
Free coupons for Curbanius were given us in turn - they were not enough at once, "and I have already heard about the eighth cauldron.
Yes, who did not know her, in the very case! The sullen, the stretching house is this, an extension to the former monastery, looked like an animal that was planted, clinging to the ground. From heat that pierced through uncomfortable gaps, glass in the eighth dining room is not the factory, but they covered uneven, frozen froth. Gray bangs over the entrance door Navis Animes, and when I passed past the eighth dining room, it always seemed to me that there was inside such a warm oasis with fakes, probably, at the edges of a huge hall, maybe even under the ceiling, both in the market live two or Three happy sparrows that managed to fly to the ventilation pipe, and they tweet themselves on beautiful chandeliers, and then, Osmeleyev, sit on ficuses.
This was the eighth dining room, until I just passed by her, but not yet inside. What value can you ask, have these ideas now?
Will explain.
Although we lived in the city of the rear, even though mom with a grandmother and was worn out of all his might, without giving me to starve, the feeling of misunderstanding visited many times a day. Infrequently, but still regularly, before bedtime, Mom made me shoot a shirt and reduce the blades on the back. Smirking, I fed up that she asked, and my mother sang deeply, and it was taken to sob, and when I demanded to explain such behavior, she repeated me that the blades converge when a person is thin to the limit, that's the ribs to recount It is possible, and in general I have anemia.
I laughed. I have no Malokrovia, because the Word itself means that there should be little blood, and I have enough of it. That's when I came to the bottleneck in the summer, she slammed, as if from a water tap. All this is nonsense - Mamina anxiety, and if we talk about my shortcomings, I could confess that I have something wrong with my ears - some additional, except for sounds of life, lightweight, truth At the same time, the head was inhabited and it seemed even better about it, but I was silent about it, my mother did not tell, but it will make some other stupid disease, such as small, ha ha ha!
But it's all nonsense on lean oil!
The main thing, did not leave me a feeling of misunderstood. It seems to be in the evening, and still something delicious to the eyes - some thick sausage, the salales, or, worse, a thin piece of ham with a tear of some kind of wet flies, or a pie, which smells like ripe apples. Well, yes no wonder the saying about the eyes are insatiable. Maybe in general in the eyes there is some kind of incoming thing - the stomach used, and the eyes are still asking for something.
In general, it seems to be drumming, the hour of everything will pass, and there is no suck under the spoon - there is no save. And I want to eat again. And when a person wants to eat, his head stretches to writing. That some unprecedented dish will invent, I did not see in my life, except in the movie "Merry Guys", for example, a whole pig lies on the dish. Or something else. And all sorts of food, like an eighth dining room, also a person can imagine in a pleasant form.
Food and warmth, clear any, things are very compatible. Therefore, I imagined ficuses and sparrows. I also imagined the smell of my beloved Gorokhovitsa.
* * *
However, reality did not confirm my expectations.
The door, aspired by Ineu, succumbed to me from behind, pushed forward, and I immediately found myself at the end of the queue. This queue was not for food, but to the locker room window, and in it, like a cuckoo in the kitchen clock, a thin aunt appeared with black and, it seemed to me, dangerous eyes. These eyes I got immediately immediately - they were huge, in the floor of the face, and with the wrong light of the dim light bulb, mixed with the otlocks of daylight through the light-selected ice, glittered with cold and angry.
This canopus was designed specifically for all schools of the city, therefore, a clear case, the queue there was a children's, from the Maltsies and girls, sorted in an unfamiliar place, and from all of them immediately polite and submissive.
"Hello, aunt pear," said the turn with different voices - so I realized that the wardrobe is called exactly this name, and also said hello, like everything, politely calling her aunt in a pear.
She did not even nodded, it was blossomed by a brilliant tricky eye, rushed to a barrier tin, crossed the number, and I found himself in the hall. With my ideas coincided only the size and sparrows. They were not sitting on the ficses, but at the iron crossbar under the most ceiling and not twittered lively, as they twitched their counterparts on the market, not far from the dung rollers, and were silent and modest.
The far wall of the dining room cut through the oblong ambrusura, in which white bathrobes flashed, but the path to the ambrusura was blocked wooden, to the belt, the fence of a sad gray-green fence, like all the dining room, colors. To climb the fence, it was necessary to approach the painted aunt, squeezing on a stool in front of a plywood box with slots: she took Couplicks, heatually looked at them and lowered them as in the mailboxes, in the box. Instead, she squeezed durally kreagoli with numbers - they were given the first, second and third in the ambrusura, but the food was different, visible, depending on the twin.
Plugging to the tray of his share, I chose a free space for a table for four. Three chairs were already busy: on one sat skinny, with a horse face, a pioneer, a class so from the sixth, two others occupied the boys older than me, but also to whine a pioneer. They looked smooth and pose, and I immediately realized that the boys chase chairs - who would eat their portion faster. The guys often looked at each other, loudly chakali, but silent, did not say anything - the competition turned out silent, as if, quietly, they had dragged the rope: who? I looked at them, probably too carefully and too thoughtfully, expressing my mind doubt in the mental development of guys, so that one of them broke away from the cutlets and told me in chance, because his mouth was scored:
- Flies, until I got around Campol!
I decided not to argue and began to go, occasionally glancing at the riders.
There is no, which is not said, and this could only be a meal - additional meals. I'm not basic! From acidic dried cheekbones. I had oatmeal with a yellow puddle of melting oil, and I did not love oatmeal yet with pre-war times. That's just the third pleased - a glass of cold tasty milk. Rye Gorbuha I dared with milk. However, I ate everything - it was supposed to be, even if the food is given, tasteless. Grandmother and Mom All my conscious life persistently taught me always all eat without a balance.
I got alone when the pioneer and boys were gone. The one that won by passing by, hurts me after all the same on the street head, so I was drinking milk not only a piece of rye bread, but also a bitter lump of resentment, stuck in the throat.
Before that, however, there was one moment in which I really did not understand anything, having understood everything in everything the next day, after a day. By defeating the opponent, a smooth guy rolled the bread ball, put it on the edge of the table and slightly moved away. Turning his head, the boys looked up, and straight on the table, exactly on the silent team, flew the sparrow. He grabbed the bread curlers and immediately removed.
"It's lucky," the champion said hoarsely.
- And how! - confirmed the loser.
The champion remained bread crust.
- Leave? He asked a friend.
- Shakali? - he was indignant. - Let's better sparrow!
The champion put the crust, but the sparrow, flewing right there, did not manage to grasp it. Meanwhile, the kid, lost a competition in a meal, has already stood.
- Okay! - The winner rose. - Do not disappear! - And shoved his crust in his mouth.
The cheek looked at him, and here he went with such a leaning face next to me and clicked me on the top of her paint.
I no longer looked more. Having gone, looking into the glass, Rzhanuhu dared and went with a room to a tete pear.
Not very tasty has extra meals.
* * *
Schools taught the guys in three shifts, and therefore the eighth cauldron of additional nutrition of puffs from morning to late evening. Another day I took advantage of this: immediately after lessons in the dining room, and yesterday I did not want to meet yesterday's smooth guys.
That's right! I remembered how they competed, who erect their lunch faster, was strengthened to introduce their similar faces, but nothing but the same smoothness could not remember.
In a word, I walked, wandered through the streets, and when it became completely hungry, crossed the threshold of the dining room. There were no people to the people to the girl at all, she missed the locker room, and when I began to unbutton off the coat, suddenly said:
- Do not undress, it's cold today!
It can be seen, my distrust wandered on my face, and maybe just bewilderment - I have never eaten in my life in the winter dressed, and she smiled:
- Yes, do not be afraid! When it is cold, we allow.
For loyalty, pulling after all the cap, I entered the dining room.
In the dining room there was a lazy hour, when the crowd of eartures had already been kicked, and the chefs themselves, a well-known business, should eat to the common dinner, so as not to annoy and be kind, and therefore Drema was roasted along the dining room. No, no one slept, the eyes did not stick away in the cooks in the ambrusura, and the painted aunt near the box was sitting alert, ranked, exactly the cat, see, did not leave the excitement of the child's turn, but she also strained it, in habit and without need . Even a little - she will swell and coal.
Drema was understandable, uncomfortable in this dining room. After all, it is always required, except for satiety, also warm, even a stuffing, and in the eighth dining room there was a chore. It seems that firewood for boilers, to cook, were still found, but he laughed cold monastic ones. And yet Drema wandered around the dining room - there was silence, only stunned spoons of a few erats, because of the ambrusuras slowly and reluctantly floated white delicious couples, painted aunt, barely approached her with his tape, ridiculous eyes, ridiculous yawned.
I got food and sat down at an empty table. There was awkward in the coat, the thick quilted sleeves were striking to call in a plate, and to be more convenient to sit, I put a portfolio for myself. Another thing! Now the plates were not sticking out in front of the nose, and a little fell, or rather, I found it, and I went to the goache.
That's just the food today turned out to be worse than yesterday. On the first - oat soup. Well, as I did not want to eat, how I did not tolerate oatmeal, defeat the oatmeal soup was an exorbitant heroism for me. Remembering the strict faces of grandmother and moms, who called me to the firm power rules, I swallowed a hot liquid with terrible violence. And the power of women's rigor is still great! How much I was free here, in the dining room far from home, no matter how the walls and the distance from my mother and grandmother's eyes and the distance, it was not easy to free from the difficult rule. Two thirds of the plate dropped in half with melancholy and, sighing hard, shook his head, as if completing the silent dispute, postponed a spoon. He took the kitlet.
As he sat in front of me, I didn't even notice. Originated without a single row. Yesterday, the sparrow was wondered much more when he flew on the table. And this boy appeared exactly ghost. And stared at a plate with an abdicted soup.
I first did not pay attention to it - I was a quiet appearance of the boyfriend. And yet - he himself.
He had a yellow, almost latechnit face, and on his forehead, right above the nose, noticeably cine alive. His eyes were also yellow, but maybe it only seemed to me because the face was? At least, there is something in them, in these eyes. Some sort of terrible flames. Probably, such eyes are crazy. I first thought: this guy is not all right. Or he is something sick, some such a strange disease that I never had.
He also threw strange glances. I even sank my heart, I heard the blood in the temples. The boy looked into my eyes, then quickly lowered a look at the plate, quickly moved with pupils: on me, on a plate, on me, on a plate. As if something asked. But I could not understand him. I did not understand his questions.
Then he whispered:
- Can I do?
This whisper sounded louder than a loud cry. I did not immediately understand. What is he talking about? What does it ask? Is it possible to do it?
I squeezed, Olondenel, amazed. I was always taught everyone to eat at home, my mother came up with me all sorts of Malokrovia, and I tried, as I could, but even with a strong enderness I didn't go out, although I knew that he would soon sleep under the spoon again. And here is a boy who saw an unstilled opposing soup, asks him - asks for!
I have chosen the word for a long time and with Natoga, which I must say, and this silence he understood in my own way, I realized that I probably whatever I feel sorry for me or I still do this tastech. His face - on the forehead and on the cheeks - covered with ribbons, as if the birthmarks, red spots. And then I understood:

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The book begins with the memoirs of the boy if his teacher Anne Nikolaevna. She taught their disciples not only school lessons, but also life lessons.

Meanwhile, the war went, was 1945, spring. A storyteller without a year and two months was no longer a little graduate of primary school.

Next, it is told that he always wants to eat. In general, all the guys can be divided into three groups: ordinary guys, jackal and shpan. The usual guys were afraid of those and others. Shakali took the food, Shpana simply inspired fear, and Swam caused the impression of a stupid crowd.

Once, when Kohl as usual, he ate, he left the soup (not a conceivable case for the storytellor, by the way (since his mother was always taught to eat, no matter how he liked the food). One of the Shakalov came to him. The narrator joined, but he gave him a soup. He surrendered this boy, called him a yellow tire. He also got one of the Swam, who made his way among the little without a queue. His he nicked his nose.

A few days later, during a meal, he again saw the yellowolitz. He pulled bread from a little girl, and because of this the scandal rose. The gang of the nose decided to trick the yellowolitz, but it turned out that they did not know how to fight, just freeze. The yellowly grabbed the nose for the throat and almost strangled it. The gang in fear ran away. The yellow elbow came to the fence and rumbled into fainting. Kolya called to the rescue, and the yellowolitis led to themselves. It turned out that he did not eat five days and that the bread buried not for himself, but for his sister Marya. The narrator found out that the yolpolitz is called the Vadka.

A little about the heroes:

The narrator lived with mother and grandmother, Father fought. At home, he was like a "cocked", shelting from all his troubles, as he himself said. He was not particularly hungry, he was dressed and wage, did not miss the lessons.

Mary and Vadka lived quite differently. The Father died at the beginning of the war. Mother lay in a hospital with a typhoid, and there was little hope for recovery. Marya lost coupons for food, so that her brother had to shake, get food with her cunning. Nevertheless, they did not descend morally. They all the time thought about the mother, spread her in letters, so that she was not worried. They lived in a poorly furnished house. All this narrator found out, communicating with the vad.

The narrator pulled to a vad as a magnet. He very much respected this yellow tire boy. The vad lacked the money and to survive in the cold, he asked the teller jacket for a while. The narrator goes home and talks to his grandmother, tells them about the Vadka and Marjo and about their difficult situation. Grandma does not allow him to give a jacket. Then the narrator (probably for the first time) goes against the will of grandmother. Picks the jacket and runs out to the guys. A little later, the mother of the story is suitable for them. He tells her what is the matter, the mother reacted with sympathy to the vad and Marya, fed them to the dump, and they are from a satiety right at the table and fell asleep.

The next day, they threatened to school. Marya went, and the narrator (for the first time!) Walk to school with a vad. The vad and a story with him went to look for food. At first, Kolya was indignant, the Vadik was full, and even in the evening grandmother and mother invited him to visit, why should he look for food? He asked this question to the Vadka, and he said that the mother and grandmother the narrator are not obliged to feed him. Noble entered. He does not like to sit on someone else's neck.

Vadik with a storytellor screamed the cake, looked at the bazaar. Vadik talks about his "survival technology".

Oh, yes I forgot to say when the narrator was at home at Vadim, he compared his relationship with his mother and the relationship of Vadik to his mother. Kolya was under the auspices of his mother, and did not regret it in any way, was not afraid for her. At Vadik, the same relationship with his mother's others: he himself says that he is afraid of her, after the death of her husband, Father Maryia and Vadik, she herself was not his own. This difference in relation to his native person talks about the maturity of Vadik as a person, he has already seen a lot in life in contrast to the narrator. On the face of Vadik, even wrinkles appeared, sometimes he looked like an old man.

When they met Marwe from school, the girl crowded him for waking up the lessons and said that she was given the coupons for food. The Vadka and Marya finally got in the dining room as the rest, but Mary took the second, Vadik drove the offender.

They go out of the dining room, joke, laugh. Vadika broke the coat with a knife, Marya Poklakla. Vadik goes to school, as it is called to the director, and the storytere accompanies Mare to the house. There they write a letter to her mother, on a notproper taller suddenly attacks the spirit of writing, he represents himself in the place of Vadik and Marya. They include a letter to the hospital, in a terrible place in the village.

Next, they go home to the storytellor, make lessons there, eat. Vadik comes with textbooks, tied up with a belt and a complete meal portfolio, which Teachers passed to him through the director. Vadik accuses to call to the director and in these handouts the story of the story. She pretends that it is not more. Mother Kolya seats Vadim at the table, it reluctantly agrees. The conversation comes on the bath. It turns out after the hospitalization of Mother Vadik and Marya washed only once because of the constraint of Marya to go to the male bath, so she could not wash it, it was difficult. The narrator talks about childhood: "It seems you are free, like everyone else, and no, not waven. Sooner or later, it will be necessary to do something that such what your soul opposes that of all his might. But you are told that you need, you need, and you, lightly, suffering, resting, still do what they require. "

Then, when Marya and Vadka go, the mother scolds a stake for strolling her lessons.

After some time, it was May 8, the narrator notes in the behavior of his mother strange bustle, tears in her eyes. He thinks something happened to his father. Mother says that everything is in order and offers to go to visit Marya and Vadka. There they drink tea, the mother itself is somehow unnatural. Suspicions of the Kolya about the Father are strengthened, but everything is in order with him.

Comes May 9 - Victory Day. Everyone is happy, seem to friends with close people: they are united by the joy of victory. In school, no one could stop in place. Anna Nikolaevna told his disciples the following:

"You know," the teacher said, a little kneading, accurately decided to tell us something very important and adult. - It will take time, a lot of time, and you will become completely adults. You will have not only children, but also children of children, your grandchildren. The time will pass, and all who were adults when the war was going to die. Will you all, the present children. Children of the past war. - She paused. "Your daughter, nor sons nor grandchildren, of course, will not know the war." Only you will be left on the whole earth, who remembers it. And it can happen that new kids will forget our grief, our joy, our tears! So, do not let them forget! Do you understand? You will not forget, here and others do not let! "

Kohl went to the house of Vadim and Marya. The light was not burning in their apartment, the door was open. Marya lay on the bed in clothes. Vadik sat on the floor near her. The question of the story "What happened?", Vadik replies that their mother died a few days ago, and they found out about it only today. Not on every street on May 9 was a holiday.

Vadik and Marwe gave in the orphanage. Kolya Spear visited them, but the conversation did not hold down. Since then, he no longer saw them, the orphanage moved to another place.

The work ends with such phrases:

Yes, wars cum sooner or later. But the hunger retreats slower than the enemy. And the tears do not dry out for a long time. And there are cavets with additional power. And there they live Shakala. Small, hungry, innocent guys. We remember it. Would you forget new people. Do not forget! So, our teacher Anna Nikolaevna told me.

(3 estimates, average: 5.00 out of 5)

Albert Likhanov

Latest Cold

I dedicate to children of last war, their
In deprivation and at all are not children's suffering.
I dedicate today's adults who are not
learned to turn his life with truths
Military childhood. Yes shine always and not
In our memory are those high
Rules and non-smoke examples - after all
Adults are just former children.

Remembering your first classes and the cute heart to the teacher, dear Anna
Nikolaevna, I now, when there was so many years with that happy and
bitter pores, I can definitely say: our mentor loved
distract.
Happened, among the lesson, she suddenly devoured a fist in her cock
the chin, her eyes misty, the gaze was drowned in the swelling or rushed
throughout us, as if for our spins, and even for a school wall she saw her
something happily clear, we are certainly incomprehensible to us, and here is the visible; sight
she was mistaken even when one of us trampled at the board, crumbled chalk,
kryakhtel, hung her nose, looked around at a class, as if searching
salvation, asking the straw, for which you can grasp, and so suddenly
the teacher sake strangely, I was sake of her, she forgot the defendant
the boards, forgot us, their students, and quietly, as if about themselves and their own,
it was raised any truth that had a direct attitude towards us.
- Of course, she said, for example, as if Kazakhstan himself, - I do not
sumey teach you drawing or music. But the one who has the gift of God, -
immediately reassured himself and us too, - this gift will be awakened and
never fall asleep again.
Or, having shut down, she mumbled under his breath, again nothing
turning something like this:
- If someone thinks as if you can miss only one section
mathematics, and then go further, he is brutally mistaken. In teaching it is impossible
deceive yourself. Teacher, maybe you will deceive, but myself -
what.
Whether it is because of the words of their Anna Nikolaevna any of us
specifically did not pay, then because it said she herself,
adult man, and only the last donkey does not understand how much
more interesting adult talk about you teacher and parental
morals, then all this, combined, acted on us, because
Anna Nikolaevna was a commander mind, and a good commander, as you know,
will not take the fortress if it becomes beaten only in the forehead, - in a word, distraction
Anna Nikolaevna, her general maneuvers, thoughtful, in the most unexpected
miG, reflections were surprising, the most important lessons.
As she taught us arithmetic, Russian language, geography, I,
actually, I almost never remember, because it can be seen that this teaching was my
knowledge. But the rules of life that the teacher uttered to himself,
stayed for a long time, if not forever.
Maybe trying to inspire a self-esteem, and maybe pursuing more
simple, but an important goal is to blame our efforts, Anna Nikolaevna
from time to time he repeated one important, visible, the truth.
- It is necessary, - she said, - still some kind of little - and they will get
certificate of primary education.
Indeed, multicolored balloons swept inside us.
We looked satisfied, friend in friend. It is necessary, Vovka Krochkin will receive
the first document in his life. And me too! And of course an excellent manner.
Everyone in our class can get - how is it? -
c and D E T E L S T in about education.
At that time, when I studied, primary education was appreciated. After
the fourth grade was given special paper, and it was possible to complete this
his teaching. True, any of us did not fit this rule, and Anna
Nikolaevna explained that it was necessary to finish at least a sevenletk, but a document about
initial education was still issued, and we thus became
quite competent people.
- You look at how many adults have only initial
education! - muttered Anna Nikolaevna. - Ask the houses of your mothers,
his grandmothers who finished one elementary school and pretty
think after that.
We thought they asked at home and Ahali to themselves: a little more - and we,
it turned out, catch up with many of their relatives. If not growing, if not intelligent,
if not knowledge, so education we approached equality with people
favorite and respected.
"It is necessary," Anna Nikolaevna sighed, "some year and two months!" AND
they will receive education!
Who she sadded? Us? Yourself? Unknown. But something was in these
there is a significant, serious, disturbing ...

Immediately after the spring vacation in the third grade, that is, without a year and
two months initially educated person, I received coupons on
additional food.
It was already forty-fifth, our wipes of fascists with how much in vain, Levitan each
the evening declared the radio new salute, and in the soul of my early mornings, in
the beginning of the day not tavering the life of the day, crossed out, hollow, two
lightning is a premonition of joy and anxiety for the Father. I'm all right
fruit, superstitly remove the eyes from such a murderous
features to lose your father on the eve of explicit happiness.
Here in those days, or rather, on the first day after the spring holidays, Anna
Nikolaevna gave me the coupons for curvature. After the lessons, I have to go to
dining room eight and dine there.
Free coupons for Curbishment were given us in turn - at all at once
lacked, - and I have already heard about the eighth cauldron.
Yes, who did not know her, in the very case! Sullen, stretching this house,
an extension to the former monastery, looked like an animal that was missing,
putting to the ground. From heat that pierced through uncomfortable gaps
ram, glass in the eighth dining room is not what zaled, and they covered uneven,
bugned by Founding. Gray bangs over the entrance door Navis Octa and when I
passed by the eighth dining room, it always seemed to me that there was inside
such a warm oasis with ficus, probably, at the edges of a huge hall, maybe
even under the ceiling, both in the market, two or three happy sparrows live,
which managed to fly to the ventilation pipe, and they tweet themselves on
beautiful chandeliers, and then, Osmeleev, sit on ficuses.
I seemed to me the eighth dining room until I passed
past her, but not yet inside. What value can you ask, have
now these views?
Will explain.
Although we lived in the city of the rear, even though mom and grandmother and were awaited
with all my might, not giving me to starve, the feeling of misunderstood visited
once a day. Not often, but still regularly, before bedtime, my mother forced
me with a shirt and cut the blades on the back. Grinning i'm submissive
performed that she asked, and mom deeply squeezed, and it was accepted
sob, and when I demanded to explain this behavior, she repeated
me that the blades converge when a person is thin to the limit, here and the ribs
you can remove everything, and in general I have a little body.
I laughed. I have no anemia, because the word itself means
that in this case there should be little blood, and I have enough her. That's when I.
in the summer it stepped on a bottle glass, she whipped as if from the plumbing
crane. All this is nonsense - Mamina anxiety, and if we talk about my
disadvantages, then I could confess that I have something wrong with my ears
order - often heard some additional, except sounds
life, light challenge, however, headed the head and it seems even better
i thought, but I was silent about it, my mother did not tell, but it will take out more
some one stupid disease, such as small, ha ha ha!
But it's all nonsense on lean oil!
The main thing, did not leave me a feeling of misunderstood. It seems to be in the evening,
and the eyes still something delicious seems - some sausage
tashed with swearing sala, or, worse, a slim piece of ham with
tear of some wet delicious, or a pie that smells like
ripe apples. Well, yes no wonder the saying about the eyes are insatiable. Can,
in general, in the eyes there is some kind of incoming thing - the stomach used, and everything eyes
something is asked.
In general, it seems and eat drumnut, an hour passes, and
spoon sucking - no save. And I want to eat again. And when a person
i want to eat, his head stretches to writing. Then some
an unprecedented dish will invent - in life did not see, except in the movie "Merry
guys ", for example, a whole pig lies on the dish. Or something else
summary. And all sorts of food, like the eighth dining room, too, man
may be imagined in the most pleasant form.
Food and warmth, clear any, things are very compatible. So I
imagined ficuses and sparrows. I also imagined the smell of my beloved
gorokhovitsy.

However, reality did not confirm my expectations.
The door, aspired by Inem, led me from behind, pushed forward, and I
immediately found himself at the end of the queue. This line was not a meal, but to the window
locker rooms, and in it, like a cuckoo in the kitchen clock, appeared muddy
aunt with black and, it seemed dangerous eyes. These eyes I.
i got at once - they were huge, in the floor face, and with the wrong light
duffle light bulb mixed with daylight reflections
throwing over the ice-eyed ice, glittered with cold and angry.
Tsvetka this was designed specifically for all school schools, so
clear case, the queue here was a nursery, from the Maltsy and girls, swept in
unfamiliar place, and therefore, immediately polite and submissive.
"Zoodard, Aunt Pear," said the turn by different voices - so I
i realized that the wardrobe is called exactly this name, and also greeted how
all, politely calling her aunt pears.
She didn't even nodded, it became a brilliant crow, rushed on
the barrier is tiny, crossed the number, and I found myself in the hall. With mine
representations coincided only the size and sparrows. They sat on the ficuses,
and on the iron crossbar under the most ceiling and not twittered lively like
twitched their counterparts on the market, not far from the navigasses, and were
silent and modest.
The long-distance wall of the dining room cut through the oblong ambrusura, in which
white bathrobes flashed, but the path to the ambrusura was blocked wooden, to
belts, fence sad gray-green, like all the dining room, colors. To
climbing the fence, it was necessary to approach the painted aunt, swaying on
stool before plywood box with slots, she took the twin,
peerfully looked at them and lowered them as in the mailboxes,
box. Instead, she gave out Durally laugh with numbers - for them in
ambrusura gave the first, second and third, but the food was different, it can be seen in
depending on the twin.
Perching on the tray of his share, I chose free space at the table
for four. Three chairs were already busy: on one sat skinny, with
horsepower pioneer, class so from the sixth, two others occupied
hundreds of older than me, but also to the pioneer shame. They looked smooth and
pose, and I immediately realized that the boys drive a chance - who is faster
eat your portion. Guys often looked at each other, loudly chavali,
but they were silent, they did not say anything - the contest was silent, as if
quiet idle, they dragged the rope: who is who? I looked at them, probably
too carefully and too thoughtfully, expressing his question doubt
in the mental development of guys, so one of them broke away from the cutlets and
he told me in chance, because his mouth was scored:
- Flies, until I got around Campol!
I decided not to argue and began to go, occasionally glancing at the riders.
No, we can talk, but I could only nick me
additional food. I'm not basic! From acidic dried cheekbones.
On the second I was relying oatmeal with a yellow puddle of the worst oil, and
i did not love oatmeal yet from pre-war times. That's just the third pleased -
glass of cold tasty milk. Rye Gorbuha I dared with milk.
However, I ate everything - it was so relied, even if the food is given,
not tasty. Grandma and Mom All my conscious life persistently taught me
always eat everything without a residue.
I got alone when the pioneer and boys were gone. The one who won
passing by, hurts me after all the same on the street head, so
i was drinking milk not only a piece of rye bread, but also bitter lump
resenting stuck in the throat.
Before that, however, there was one moment in which I really could not
i understood, having understood everything in everything the next day, after a day.
Defeating the opponent, a smooth guy rolled the bread ball, put it on
the edge of the table and slightly moved away. Turning his head, the boys looked up and
right on the table, exactly on the silent team, flew the sparrow. He grabbed
bread Circling and immediately removed.
"It's lucky," the champion said hoarsely.
- And how! - confirmed the loser.
The champion remained bread crust.
- Leave? He asked a friend.
- Shakali? - he was indignant. - Let's better sparrow!
The champion put the crust, but the sparrow, the flew right there, did not manage

Somewhere he is there? Something with him? God, how much I thought about it! .. in the word, and I, and my grandmother - we, of course, immediately began to think about the Father, Porpirtnev, and I decided that, perhaps, my mother had a complete right to cry.
In silence, we filed. And mom suddenly asked me:
- How is Vadik? How Masha?
"The bathhouse goes well," I replied.
"You see," I presented my mother, "what are the men." "She knew, not taking care of me attentive glance, and added:" Just heroes. " The real little heroes.
Her eyes looked at her again, as if from smoke, she lowered her face to a plate, then jumped out of the table and went to Kerosink.
From there she said emphasized by a lively voice:
- Kohl, and let's go to them today. I don't even know where they live.
"Come on," I said rather surprised than happily. And repeated fun: - Come on!
- Mum! - It turned to her grandmother. - Come to them what a hotel, eh? It is uncomfortable after all to visit with empty hands.
- Yes, I have nothing like that! - Divated his grandmother with his hands.
"Mochitsa can," Mom said, a rustle in the hallway with killes, bryakaya by banks. - Potatoes! Oil pieces. Sahara.
The grandmother reluctantly came out due to the table, there, behind the wall, women began to be twisted, and the mother repeated loudly:
- Nothing, nothing!
In the room of Vadik and Marya Mom entered the first and somehow very decisively. She was not surprised by the wretchedness, she didn't even look at the guys, and so it struck me. Strange somehow! Mom began to carry the water, took a rag, began to wash the floor, and at that time she was a teapot, and mom washed all the dishes, although it was little and it turned out to be clean.
It seemed to me, my mother torments himself on purpose, comes up with a work for himself, which can not be done, because the floor in the room was quite decent. It seems that she did not know what to take. And everything did not look at Vadik and Marry, looked away. Although chatted without silent.
- Masha, Golubushka, - Taratoril Mom, - Do you know how to dare? Now, you know how bad. Learn, you need to learn, the baby, and it is very simple: you take a fungus such a wooden, well, of course, the fungus is not necessary, you can, on the electric light bulb, you can even on the glass, pull the sock, then the hole, but also thread, first Along, then across, not in a hurry it is necessary, diligently, so it will turn out a filament duct, it will always come in handy ...
In general, such a thing for women's topics, first about the duct, then how to cook a borsch, then the hair was washed, so that fluffy, and so without the front, not that no point, without a pause, but even without a point with a comma.
And everything would be nothing if it were not for one important circumstance, however, known to me. This circumstance was that Mom could not tolerate such a chatter and gently, but decisively interrupted such conversations, if some woman who went to the light was taken for them. I listened and did not believe my ears.
Finally, the whole room turned out to be tied and caught, tea boiled, and nothing else remained, how to sit at the table.
Mom first time for the whole evening looked at Vadik and Marry. In the middle of it slammed and immediately lowered his head. Vadka understood it in his own way and was awkward, but politely thanked. Mom quickly, she glanced at him and was insincere laughed:
- What are you, what are you!
I saw: she thinks about a friend. No, honestly, my mother did not like himself today. As if something happened to her, and she hides. And it does not succeed.
We drove tea.
They drank it with bread, anointed thin, completely transparent layer of oil, and with sugar - very festive. Sugar was a little, and we ate him in principle, nothing surprising. Drink Tea Lack was considered to be in the war with a non-disabilities.
Sugar to tea was also a military, grandmother.
After receiving sands with sand, she poured him into a bowl, added water and patiently boiled on slow fire. When the brew was cooled, a yellow nosed sugar was obtained, which was easy to prick with forceps. And most importantly, he became a little more. Here is such a military trick.
We drank tea, ate black bread with butter, bitten the sugar with a little, and the clock arrows moved to the edge of the last day of the war, followed by the world. Did you think that this is the last of our tea in this uncomfortable room? ..
Then we went outside. Vadik and Marya smiled us after.
Stood on the threshold of the room, waved their hands and smiled.
I still thought: as if they were leaving. Stand on the wagon step, the train has not yet tried, but is about to touch. And they will go somewhere.
We went outside, and I again felt that with my mother was wrong. She was not trembling her lips, but simply shaking.
We turned around the corner, and I shouted again:
- What about dad?
Mom stopped, strongly turned me to him and uncomfortably pressed my head to him.
- Son! She sobbed. - My dear! Son!
And I cried too. I was sure: my father is alive.
She barely dissuaded me. Swore and was life. I calmed down with difficulty. I did not believe everything, everything asked:
- What happened?
- Just! - Mom repeated, and her eyes were filled with tears. - stupid such mood! Sorry! I upset you, stupid.

* * *

And then it came tomorrow! First day without war.
I, of course, did not understand how wars ended, - I think, without a year and one month, primary education! I just didn't know how it was done. True, I think my grandmother did not imagine, and my mother, too, and many, many adults who were not in war, and those who were, could not imagine how this damned war ended there, in Berlin.
Stop shoot? It became quiet? Well, what else? After all, it can not be that they stopped shooting - and everything ended! Probably shouting our military, eh? "Hooray!" Erased with all his might. We cried, hugged, danced, paled into the sky rockets of all colors?
There is no, no matter what I will remember, everything will be not enough for unprecedented happiness to express.
I really thought: maybe you need to cry? All-all to cry: both girls, and guys, and women, and, of course, military, soldiers, generals and even the Supreme Commander in Himself in the Kremlin. Stand up all and cry, not having any many things, - from the Great, immense, like the sky and as the earth, happy joy.
Of course, tears always taste salty, even if a person cries from joy. And so hot, grief in these tears - the full bowl, nemerene, steep ...
So my mother is me on that day with tears washed. I also opal, she grabbed me sleeping, something whispers, so as not to scare, and on her face her hot tears dripped: Cap-Cap, Cap Cal.
- What happened?
I jumped up frightened, disappeared as a sparrow. The first thing I came to mind is: I was right. Father! It is impossible to cry without serious reasons for the whole evening and morning in addition!
But my mother whispered to me:
- Everything! Everything! End of war!
"Why does she whisper? - I thought. - You need to scream about this! " And Garked that it was forces:
- URA-AA!
Grandmother and Mom jumped near my bed, like girls, laughed, clapped his hands and shouted, as if chalk:
- URA-AA!
- URA-URA-Hooray!
- And when? - I asked, standing on the bed in cowals and T-shirt. It is necessary, from here, on top, our room seemed a huge, just a whole world, and I, a diverse, did not know about it.
- What - when? - Mom laughed.
- When the end of the war has come?
- Early in the morning they declared. You also slept!
I boiled:
- And I did not wake me up?
- It was a pity! - Mom said.
- What do you say! - I shouted again. - How is it sorry? When this, when that ... - I did not know what word to apply. How to call this joy. Never came up with. - What about how?
Mom laughed. She understood me today, perfectly understood my inadvertent questions.
"Well, my grandmother jumped out into the street." Morning just begins, and the people are full. Yes, you get up! You yourself will see!
Never in life - neither before, nor after - I did not want to go outside. I feverly dressed, shoved, washed, I flew and flew into the courtyard in an open coat.
The weather stood gray, sad, which is called, groaning, but if even raging the storm and thunder thundered, this day would still seem bright and sunny.
The people moved right along the cobblestone pavement, freed from snow. Not a single person was on sidewalks. And you know what came into my head immediately? The sidewalks are from the side of the road, on both sides. People walk on one and over the other side on ordinary days, two independent tracks. And then the tracks became funny! Stupid to disgust! People pulled into the crowd, on the middle of the road. How can I walk at a distance from each other? It is necessary to connect to see smiles, talking friendly words, laugh, harrow to strangers!
That's the joy!
As if everyone is familiar or even relatives on the street.
First, I was overtaken by Vataga boys. They shouted "Hurray!", And everyone knocked me - who is in the side, who is on the shoulder, but it does not hurt, and a friendly, and I also shouted:
- URA-AA!
Then a chunky old man with a volatile beard came to meet me. His face seemed to me wet, and I thought that he probably cries. But the old man gruelled with a cheerful voice:
- With a victory, granddaughter! - and laughed.
On the road stood a young woman in the checkered scarf, quite a girl. In her hands, she kept a bundle with a child and spoke out loudly:
- Look! Member! - Then she laughed happily and repeated again: - Look! Member!
As if this irresponsible baby can remember something! He seemed to be not before the holiday, he was screamed in his own kulk, this karapuz. And his mother laughed again and said:
- Clement correctly. Hooray! Hooray! - And asked me: - Do you see? He screams "Hurray!"
- Well done! - I replied.
And the woman shouted:
- Congratulations!
There was a disabled on the corner, he served almost every woman who was passing by, is before, in simple days. He had no right hand and left legs. Instead of them, the sleeves and pant are gymnasters and halifers.
Usually he sat on a wooden chumbachk, in front of him lay a winter hat with an asterisk, in this cap and threw coins, and the disabled person himself was a punkonek, however, and silent, never said nothing, just looked at the passers-by and creaked his teeth. On the left of his breasts, weakly desklied the medal "for the courage", but on the right half of the gymnasters, as if the pursuit of the long row of yellow and red stripes were injured.
Today, the disabled was also drunk, and see, firmly, but did not sit, but stood, relying about the crutch, that sideways, where the right hand should be. He held his left near the temple, giving honor, and there was nowhere to put him today.
He would, maybe not taken. Stood on the corner as a living monument, and people came to him from four sides. Women who are beddown, approached him, kissed, cried and immediately moved back. And he was honored. Still silently, as if silent. Only crossed my teeth.
I went on. And suddenly I almost sat down - such a rumbled. A man in Major's chains and paled from a pistol stood with me. Fuck-fuck-fuck! He released a whole clip and laughed. It was a wonderful major! The face is young, mustache like a hussar, and on the chest there are three orders. Shores were burning with gold, the Order was called and glistened, Major himself laughed and shouted:
- Long live our glorious women! Long live a heroic rear!
Near him immediately twisted the crowd. Women, laughing, began to hang the major on the neck, and they hung them immediately so much that the military did not stand and collapsed with women. And they shouted, squeezed, laughed. I did not have time to blink, as everyone rose, and Major raised even above, over the crowd, for some moment he was like that, over women, then fell, only no longer on earth, and they were in his hands, they flushed and threw him into air. Now she shone not only major, but also his brilliant boots. He barely persuaded to stop, barely beat. For that, he was forced to kiss each.
- In Russian, - screamed some kind of brisk aunt. - Three times!
At school, something unlucky was created. The people ran through stairs, screamed, merrily pushed. We have never allowed calf tenderness, it was considered indecent, but in a happy Victory Day I hugged with Vova Kroashkin, and with Vitaka, and even with a bag, even though he was the tsar of Heaven!
Everything was forgiven on this day. All were equal - excellent students and duals. We loved us all our teachers - quiet and Zabyak, Cultivating and Song. All past scores seemed to be closed, we were as it were from: now life should go differently, including you.
Finally, the teacher, shouting the noise and gomon, told everyone to build. By classes, downstairs, on a small patch, where general fees were arranged. But the classes did not come out! All pushed, wandered, and ran from place to place, from Comrade to a friend from another class and back. At this time, director of Fainain Vasilyevna, with all his strength, thundered with a famous school bell, similar to the copper bucket of medium sizes. The ringing turned out terrible, had to close the ears with his palms, but today and he did not help. Faina Vasilyevna called for about ten minutes, no less until the school fell silent.
- Dear children! She said, and only then we got sick. - Remember today. He will go down in history. Congratulations to all of us with a victory!
It was the shortest rally in my life. We shouted, scored in your hands, shouted "Hurray!", Jerked as usually as possible, and there was no guide on us. Faina Vasilyevna stood on the first step leading up. She looked at her withdrawn, who came out of the obedience to school first surprised, then good-natured, finally laughed and waved his hand.
The door opened, we broke on the streams and flowed into our classes. But no one could sit. Everything went in us with a walker. Finally, Anna Nikolaevna slightly calmed us. True, calm was unusual: who stood who sat riding on the desk, who settled right on the floor, near the stove.
"Well," said Anna Nikolaevna quietly, as if he repeated the question. - She loved to ask questions twice: once louder, the second is quiet. "Well," said again, "the war ended. You caught her children. And although you did not know the most terrible, all the same you saw this war.
She raised her head and looked somewhere over us again, as if there, behind the school wall, and on, for the most durable wall of time, our future life was shifted, our future.
"You know," the teacher said, a little kneading, accurately decided to tell us something very important and adult. - It will take time, a lot of time, and you will become completely adults. You will have not only children, but also children of children, your grandchildren. The time will pass, and all who were adults when the war was going to die. Will you all, the present children. Children of the past war. - She paused. "Your daughter, nor sons nor grandchildren, of course, will not know the war." Only you will be left on the whole earth, who remembers it. And it can happen that new kids will forget our grief, our joy, our tears! So, do not let them forget! Do you understand? You will not forget, here and others do not let!
Now we have already silent. It was quiet in our class. Only from the corridor Yes, excited voices were heard due to the walls.

* * *

After school, I did not rush to the vad, he now did not miss lessons, and maybe at least someone else to stream at home on such a day?
In general, I came to twilight.
A communal three-storey house, where they lived, looked like a ship: all windows glowed in different colors - it figured out the curtains. And although no noise and Gama heard, it was and so it is clear that people celebrate the victory behind colored windows. Maybe someone and with wine, ragged, but most - tea is sent or potatoes, for today's occasion is not just boiled, but fried. Why there! Without fault, everyone was drunk joy!
In the close space under the stairs, the fear of my icy hand was touched! Still would! The door to the room where Vadim lived and Marya was awarded to a whole palm, and the light was not burning in the room. At first, my head flashed in my head, as if the room was cleared of thieves. Where they have conscience, in the holiday ...
But here I felt a dark beam beats the doorway.
As if there, in the room, hot bakes the Black Sun and his rays make their way into the gap, penetrate the stairs. Nothing that he is not visible is a strange sun. But heard, but they feel all the skin, as if the breath of a terrible and large beast.
I pulled the door handle. It seems to cry, looped loops.
At the twilight, I saw that Marya lies on the bed dressed in shoes. And Vadim sits on a chair near the cold "bourgear".
I wanted to say that this is a great sin - to be helped in such an evening, I wanted to find the switch and click it to disappear, the strange black sun was disappeared, because the usual light bulb will cope with it. But something kept me to include the light, speak a loud voice, grab from behind Vadim so that he moved, he came to life in this darkness.
I went to the room and saw that Marya lies with her eyes closed. "Is it really sleeping?" - I am amazed. And interviewed Vadim:
- What happened?
He sat in front of the "bourgeitogo", holding his palm with his knees, and his face seemed unfamiliar to me. Some changes occurred in this face. It sharpened, a little dying, childishly chubby lips stretched out with bitter strings. But the main thing - the eyes! They became more. And as if she saw something terrible.
Vadim thought and did not even flourished when I entered, twisted in front of him and stared in his eyes.
- What happened? - I repeated, not even suggesting what a vad can answer.
And he watched, thinking about me, or rather, looked through me and spoke to the lost, wooden lips:
- Mom died.
I wanted to laugh, shout: they say that for jokes! But would the Vadka become ... So it's true ... how so?
I remembered that the day today, and shuddered. After all, the end of the war, a great holiday! And is it possible that in the holiday, so that this happens exactly on the holiday ...
- Today? - I asked, everything is not believing. After all, Mom, my mom, to which you can always rely, asked to convey to Vadik and Masha, as if things in the hospital are amended.
And came out ...
- For several days ... She was buried without us ...
He spoke to a non-living voice, my Vadim. And I just physically felt like every word between us, black water is revealed.
Wider and wider.
As if he and Marya, on a small raft of his room, sail from the coast, where I stand, a lopuhiy little kid.
I know: a little more, and black fast water will pick up the raft, and the Black Sun, which is already burning not visible, but only feeling warm, shines the unstable raft, hesitates it in an obscure way.
- What's next? - I barely heard I interviewed the vad.
He moved weakly.
"In the orphanage," he replied. And the first time we talked, he blinked. I looked at me with a meaningful look.
And suddenly he said ...
And suddenly he said such that I could never forget.
"You know," said the great and incomprehensible man's vad, "you would have walked from here." And that is, the sign. - He was blocked. - Who walks next to the trouble, can hurt her, get to infected. And you have a bass on the front!
"But after all, the war ended," I exhaled.
- Like what! - said Vadim. - War is over, and you see, as it happens. Go!
He rose from the stool and began to slowly turn around in place, as if she had me. Coming around, I handed him his hand, but Vadim shook his head.
Marya lay everything, all slept some kind of unreal, fabulous sleep, only here the fairy tale was unreachaded, not about the sleeping princess.
Without any hope there was this fairy tale.
- And Marya? - I asked helplessly. I did not ask, but swallowed a childish, a plaintive voice.
"Marya sleeps," Vadim answered calmly. - That wakes up, and ...
What will happen when Marya wakes up, he did not say.
Slowly firing, I went out into the space under the stairs. And preferred the door behind him.
The Black Sun now did not break here, in the underlying dusk. It remains there, in the room where the windows are stuck with stripes of paper, as at the very beginning of the war.

* * *

I saw Vadim again.
Mom said in which he is an orphanage. Came and said. I realized what her tears meaning on the day before the victory.
I went.
But we did not come out, no conversation.
Vadima I found it in the orphanage - he carried the wood of firewood. The end of summer was turned out to be cool, and the stove, see, was already treated. Having noticed me, silently, without a smile, nodded, disappeared in the open mouth of a large door, then returned.
I wanted to ask him, they say, how are you, but it was a stupid question. Isn't it clear how. And then Vadim asked me:
- How are you?
After all, the same question may look silly and completely seriously, if you ask him different people. Rather, people in different positions.
"Nothing," I replied. To say "Normal" I did not turn the language.
- Soon we will be sent to the West, "Vadim said. - Leaving the whole childhood.
- Are you glad? - I asked and raised my eyes. Whatever the question I asked, he turned out to be awkward. And I interrupted it to others: - How to Marya?
"Nothing," answered Vadim.
Yes, the conversation did not work.
He stood in front of me, the progress of the handsucking, a unworn guy, as if not very familiar with me.
On Vadim were gray pants and gray shirt, unknown to me, see the Dwedom. A strange thing, they were even more separated Vadim from me.
And it seemed to me, as if he feels some kind of awkwardness. As if he is to blame for something, or what? But what? What stupidity!
I just lived in the same world, and he existed completely in another.
- Well, I went? He asked me.
Strange. Is this asking?
"Of course," I said. And shook his hand.
- Be healthy! - He said to me, I watched a moment, as I go, then it turned out strongly and no longer looked around.
Since then, I have not seen him.
In the building, which occupied the orphanage, was located the artel, which produced buttons. In war, there were no buttons. The war ran out, and it urgently needed buttons to sew them to new coats, costumes and dresses.

* * *

In the fall, I went to the fourth grade, and I again issued coupons for extra food.
The road to the eighth cauldron was embedded solar autumn - the maple branches were swung above the head, bloomed, precisely multicolored flags, festive leaves.
I now saw a lot and understood differently. Father was alive, and although he had not returned yet, because a new war went, with the Japanese, it did not seem so terrible as everything was passed. I remained learning only a few months, and please - in your pocket a certificate of primary education.
Everything grows around. Trees grow, well, and small people - too, each intelligence arrives, and everything changes in our eyes. Determined everything!
Autumn stood warm, undressing and dressing the people was not required, and Aunt Pear peek out his black, anthracite eye just like that, of pure curiosity, immediately dropping his head, - probably knitted.
And in general, the people in the canteen became less. No one for some reason was pushed at that time.
I calmly got food - again glorious, at all times a delicious Gorokhovitz, a boiler, compote, - took up the spoon and, without looking around the sides, it was already branded about the bottom of the Iron Bowl, as a boy arose.
The war ended, thank God, and I already forgot everything - short memory. You never know why the boy could appear! I absolutely did not think about such a late past.
At the temple, the boy shuddered, pulsed the blue veil, similar to the harmonica, he looked at me very carefully, without taking his glance, and suddenly said:
- Boy, if you can leave!
I lowered a spoon ...
I lowered a spoon and looked at the boys. "But the war ended!" - I wanted to say, rather, I wanted to ask.
And he looked at me with hungry eyes.
When it looks, the language does not turn.
I was silent. I guessed him a bowl, and the fork did the border exactly in the middle of the cutlets.

* * *

Yes, wars cum sooner or later.
But the hunger retreats slower than the enemy.
And the tears do not dry out for a long time.
And there are cavets with additional power. And there they live Shakala. Small, hungry, innocent guys.
We remember it.
Would you forget new people.
Do not forget! So, our teacher Anna Nikolaevna told me.

Albert Likhanov

Latest Cold

I dedicate to the children of the last war, their deprivation is not at all childish suffering. I dedicate today's adults who did not have to believe in the life of the Truths of Military Childhood. Yes, they always shine and do not express those high rules and non-smoke examples in our memory, - after all, adults are just former children.

Remembering your first classes and the cute heart to the teacher, dear Anna Nikolaevna, I now, when so many years old with that happy and bitter pore, I can definitely say: our mentor loved to be distracted.

It happened, among the lesson, she suddenly devoured his cam in a hot chin, her eyes misty, the eyes were drowned in the swelling or rushed through us, as if by our backs and even for the school wall, she had seen something happily clear, we, of course, did not understand , and here is a visible; her eyes misty even when someone out of us trembled at the board, crumbled chalk, crackle, shyly the nose, looked around at the class, as if searching for salvation, asking the straw for which you can grasp, - and that's suddenly the teacher faded I was sake of her, she forgot to the defendant at the board, forgot us, his disciples, and quietly, as if to themselves and himself, was encouraged by some truth that had a direct attitude towards us.

"Of course," she said, for example, as if Kazakhstani itself, "I will not be able to teach you drawing or music. But the one who has the gift of God, "she immediately calmed himself and us too," this gift will be awakened and will never fall asleep.

Or, shut down, she muttered himself under his breath, again, nothing to do with anyone, something like this:

- If someone thinks as if you can miss only one section of mathematics, and then go further, he is brutally mistaken. In the teaching it is impossible to deceive yourself. Teachers, maybe you will deceive, but yourself - for nothing.

Whether because of us did not pay the words to their Anna Nikolaevna, or because it said she herself, an adult man, but only the last donkey does not understand how interesting the conversations of adults about you teacher and parental morals, Whether all this, taken together, acted on us, because Anna Nikolaevna had a commander mind, and a good commander, as you know, will not take the fortress, if it becomes a beat only in the forehead, - in the word, distract Anna Nikolaevna, her general maneuvers, Pensive, in the most unexpected moment, reflections were surprisingly, the most important lessons.

As we taught us arithmetic, Russian language, geography, I, in fact, almost do not remember, - because it is clear that this teaching was my knowledge. But the rules of life that the teacher uttered to himself, remained for a long time, if not per century.

Maybe trying to inspire a self-esteem, and maybe pursuing a simpler, but an important goal, squeezing our effort, Anna Nikolaevna from time to time repeated one important, visible, truth.

"This is necessary," she said, "still some kind of little - and they will receive a certificate of primary education."

Indeed, multicolored balloons swept inside us. We looked satisfied, friend in friend. It is necessary, Vovka, Krochkin will receive the first document in his life. And me too! And, of course, the feature of Ninka. Every in our class can get - as it is a certificate of education.

At that time, when I studied, primary education was appreciated. After the fourth grade, they gave special paper, and it was possible to complete their teachings on this. True, any of us did not fit this rule, and Anna Nikolayevna explained that it was necessary to finish at least a sevenletk, but the document on primary education was still issued, and we thus became completely competent people.

- You look at how many adults have only primary education! - muttered Anna Nikolaevna. "Ask the houses of your mothers, my grandmothers who finished alone just a primary school, and think carefully after that.

We thought, asked at home and Ahali to ourselves: a little more, and we, we turned out, catch up with many of our relatives. If not an increase, if not in mind, if not knowledge, we approached the equality with people with loved ones and respected.

"It is necessary," Anna Nikolaevna sighed, "some year and two months!" And they will receive education!

Who she sadded? Us? Yourself? Unknown. But something was in these bales a significant, serious, disturbing ...

* * *

Immediately after the spring holidays in the third grade, that is, without a year and two months, a manifestized person, I received coupons for extra food.

Already forty-fifth, our frenzes were too in vain, Levitan declared a new salute every evening, and in the soul of my early in the morning, at the beginning of the life of the day, they crossed, sprinkling, two zippers - a premonition of joy and anxiety for his father. I quickly started up, superstitly removing my eyes from such a murderous opportunity to lose my father on the eve of obvious happiness.

Here in those days, or rather, on the first day after the spring vacation, Anna Nikolayevna gave me the coupons for Curbaning. After the lessons, I have to go to the dining room eight and dine there.

Free coupons for Curbanius were given us in turn - they were not enough at once, "and I have already heard about the eighth cauldron.

Yes, who did not know her, in the very case! The sullen, the stretching house is this, an extension to the former monastery, looked like an animal that was planted, clinging to the ground. From heat that pierced through uncomfortable gaps, glass in the eighth dining room is not the factory, but they covered uneven, frozen froth. Gray bangs over the entrance door Navis Animes, and when I passed past the eighth dining room, it always seemed to me that there was inside such a warm oasis with fakes, probably, at the edges of a huge hall, maybe even under the ceiling, both in the market live two or Three happy sparrows that managed to fly to the ventilation pipe, and they tweet themselves on beautiful chandeliers, and then, Osmeleyev, sit on ficuses.

This was the eighth dining room, until I just passed by her, but not yet inside. What value can you ask, have these ideas now?

Although we lived in the city of the rear, even though mom with a grandmother and was worn out of all his might, without giving me to starve, the feeling of misunderstanding visited many times a day. Infrequently, but still regularly, before bedtime, Mom made me shoot a shirt and reduce the blades on the back. Smirking, I fed up that she asked, and my mother sang deeply, and it was taken to sob, and when I demanded to explain such behavior, she repeated me that the blades converge when a person is thin to the limit, that's the ribs to recount It is possible, and in general I have anemia.

I laughed. I have no Malokrovia, because the Word itself means that there should be little blood, and I have enough of it. That's when I came to the bottleneck in the summer, she slammed, as if from a water tap. All this is nonsense - Mamina anxiety, and if we talk about my shortcomings, I could confess that I have something wrong with my ears - some additional, except for sounds of life, lightweight, truth , at the same time, he sat down and seemed to even better think, but I was silent about it, my mother did not tell, but it will take out some other stupid