This incredible story from real life was told to me by my grandmother, whom I frequently visit in the village. Once, we hadn’t seen each other for a long time—I had been working abroad for two years, and when I returned home, the first thing I did was go to my beloved grandma. I had already been staying in the village for several days when I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen Maria Vasilievna, my grandmother’s neighbor from the house across the street, even once. I’d always liked this kind, hardworking elderly woman, who was truly a great laborer.
“Grandma! Where’s your friend Maria Vasilievna? She hasn’t dropped by all week. Is something wrong with her?” I asked, feeling concerned.
Grandma looked at me in surprise.
“Oh, she’s been living in a nursing home for over a year now,” she said, then added with a start, “Ah, of course, you don’t know anything about it! Well, let me tell you.”
And so, Grandma began telling me this story.
As I mentioned earlier, Grandma Masha was always hard at work. None of the villagers had ever seen her idle—either she was tending to her garden beds, working in the orchard, greeting her cow as it came back from the herd, baking pies to share with half the village, or running early in the morning to catch the bus with two buckets of cherries. Fresh vegetables, fruits, greens, eggs, goat-hair scarves, sour cream—Maria Vasilievna would take it all to the district market to sell, carefully saving every penny in a tin biscuit box. She wasn’t saving for herself—she didn’t need much—but for her only son Valery, his wife Zina, and their daughter Sasha. Her son and his wife lived in the city three hours away and visited regularly. They didn’t help with the garden or livestock, but they never failed to show up for the village groceries. They would load up the car trunk so much that the wheels practically sagged.
Years passed, and Maria Vasilievna began to grow old and frail—her back ached, her legs twisted with pain, her overworked hands throbbed in the joints, and her blood pressure spiked. Gradually, she started getting rid of her livestock, keeping just a couple of garden beds, and letting her neighbors plant potatoes on the rest of the plot. Her son Valera visited less and less, and his wife Zinaida stopped coming altogether—there wasn’t much left to take from the village mother-in-law.
When Grandma Masha’s vision began to deteriorate sharply, she got scared and called her son to ask him to take her to city doctors. Valera came, picked her up, and brought her home. Zina wasn’t thrilled to see her mother-in-law but hid it well, offering her some refreshment after the journey and serving her a meal. Valery suggested a full medical checkup for his mother. They spent an entire day at the clinic and then stopped by the pharmacy for medicine. It was too late to return to the village, so they decided she would stay overnight. Zina, upon learning that Grandma Masha would stay the night, could no longer hide her disappointment. She went to the kitchen to cook dinner, banging the dishes so loudly it seemed like she might shatter them.
At that moment, an elderly neighbor dropped by, delighted to see Maria Vasilievna.
“Maria Vasilievna! It’s been so long since you’ve been here! Are you staying long? Leaving already tomorrow? Come over to my place for tea, and we’ll sit and chat.”
After taking his mother to the neighbor’s house, Valera returned to the kitchen.
“Zina, since Mom’s not here, I wanted to talk to you,” he began.
But Zinaida’s tone already revealed she wasn’t interested.
“She’s really deteriorated,” Valery said. “We were at the clinic, and she’s got a whole bouquet of ailments. She says her legs hurt so much she can barely walk…”
“Well, she’s not young anymore,” Zinaida retorted. “What did you expect—her to run a marathon?”
“Exactly!” Valery brightened. “Our apartment has three rooms, Sasha and her husband live in the capital and probably won’t move back here…”
“Hold on! What are you getting at?” Zinaida stopped chopping carrots. “You’re not thinking of bringing her here, are you? Have you completely lost your mind? A three-room apartment, so what?!”
“But we can’t just send her to a nursing home, can we?” Valera was perplexed. “By the way, a couple of those rooms were paid for with the cherries and strawberries she sold every summer!”
“Oh, so now you’re going to throw that in my face?” Zinaida snapped. “Your mother didn’t help strangers—she helped her own son and granddaughter!”
“You’re a heartless woman, Zina!” Valery sighed bitterly. “I thought we could take Mom in and live happily. She’s got a sturdy, solid house—it’ll fetch a good price. We could sell it, buy a new car, maybe even go to Turkey for a vacation…”
“She can choke on her house!” Zinaida screamed. “A week’s vacation abroad isn’t worth me being her servant for the next ten years!”
“What are you even saying, woman?!” Valery flared up, only to suddenly see Maria Vasilievna standing in the doorway.
The kitchen fell silent, as if everyone had gone deaf.
“Mom, how long have you been standing there?” her son stammered.
“Oh, I just came in,” she replied with a gentle smile. “I came to grab my glasses—we’re looking at an album over at Katya’s. By the way, I almost forgot. I meant to tell you—I’m moving to a nursing home in a month. You’ll help me with my things, won’t you?”
Valery couldn’t say a word. His wife, however, began bustling about.
“Of course we’ll help! I’ll come with him, and we’ll load everything up and move it all. You’ve made the right decision—life’s more fun with peers than being alone.”
The district nursing home where the “caring” son and daughter-in-law took Maria Vasilievna left Valery with mixed feelings. The staff was excellent, and the director seemed like a kind and compassionate person. It was clear the elderly were treated with care and warmth. However, the building itself was in dire need of renovation. The linoleum in the corridors was worn, drafts blew through the windows, and the recreation room contained nothing but a broken TV and shabby chairs.
Maria Vasilievna’s room was small, damp, with a sagging bed and wobbly chairs, but she didn’t let on that the conditions upset her.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Valery said. “I’ll do some amazing renovations here—everyone will be envious. Once I’m on vacation, I’ll get it all done. Don’t feel lonely; we’ll visit soon.”
He only remembered his promise six months later when Zinaida reminded him they needed to deal with the old house—it was summer, the best time to sell it.
The director didn’t reproach the rare visitors and spoke warmly about Maria Vasilievna.
“Before you go upstairs, stop by the recreation room—your mother might be there with her friends watching TV. Let me take you there.”
Maria wasn’t in the recreation room. Looking around, Valery whistled.
“Wow, you’ve really fixed this place up! A new sofa, armchairs, a big-screen TV, flowers everywhere—it’s amazing! Must’ve cost a fortune?”
“We have your mother to thank,” the director smiled.
“My mother? What does she have to do with it?” Valery asked, confused.
“All this beauty was bought with her money.”
“Where would an old woman get that kind of money?” Zinaida laughed but then gasped. “Valera! She sold our house…”
Maria Vasilievna watched her furious relatives with a calm smile as they bombarded her with accusations of selfishness.
“Why are you so upset?” she asked. “I didn’t sell your house—I sold mine. I have every right to! I’m happy here, it’s warm, and I enjoy it. I wanted to give something back to good people. After all, it’s better to sell the house and bring joy to others than to choke on it, right, Zina?”
Zinaida lowered her eyes and stormed outside.
There was nothing they could do to change things now.