I’m retired now, and I’ve been alone for a long time. I separated from my husband, and my daughter died a few years ago. My relatives are few and far between, and they try to stay away as an elderly person is a burden, they try not to take on too much. They haven’t come for a year and a half, and I don’t impose.
Fortunately, I have a salvation – a childhood friend. Since my husband left and took almost everything with him, I have been trying to call her more often for five years. We live in the same village, where I went back to my parents’ old house.
Found a couple of other acquaintances down the street who have not separated. I don’t even know, could I survive without them or not? Loneliness is a terrible thing for people of age.
The village where I grew up is very small, everyone knows all the details about the other, you can’t hide anything. Unfortunately, the cheeky neighborhood kids know these details too – and take advantage of them. They know: no one helps me. That’s why they party from morning till night. They are rude, they tease, and it goes on day after day, month after month.
It’s fun for them, but it’s trouble for me. They start climbing on the fence – how do I fix it? Or they shoot a snowball through my window – who do I change the window for if it cracks? Yell near the house love, just to make me angry.
Even if my friend Lyudmila looks over to visit me, or any of the neighbors call, small troublemakers can not deny themselves the pleasure of throwing a snowball at the glass. They run fast, and how can an old person catch up with them? At first, I chose a tried-and-true tactic.
I didn’t pay attention. After all, you know what they win – if I start yelling and waving a stick in response, I get nervous, they enjoy it. That’s why they come to me, it’s a matter of time and technique to make me angry, they feel complete impunity. Kids are angry. They are not beaten by life, they do not understand what they do, their cruelty is natural, from the excess of life forces.
Over time I realized that keeping silent would not help, the kids started running to me and got violent. I tried to go and talk to their parents. However, it was a hopeless case. Their families were drunk, they had lived in the village for a long time and behaved this way all the time. They had children on a regular basis, and that was the end of the upbringing. I tried to explain that the children don’t feel the need to talk to them, that one day they will get on top of someone stronger. There have to be rules, punishment, after all.
The answer was simple:What do you want, grandma? Did they break something yet? Broke something? Kids are just playing, having fun. We bring them up properly, you do not teach them. If you don’t like it, stay home. However, even this unfortunate dialogue spared me from the kids for a couple of days. But then came back with renewed vigor: sit on the fence, throwing at the windows, whistling and yelling.
If I had known it was just flowers. They got their act together and started climbing the property. At least they used to be on the other side of the fence. Now they’re jumping on the roof of the bathhouse, and it’s weak. Others are spreading the plot, running around the seedbeds. I swear at them from the porch, and they have fun. Well, my parents didn’t teach me, so I had to do it myself.
I went to a friend’s house early in the morning and brought her sheepdog home. I’m great with dogs, and they love me, too. Once all the bullies had moved into the yard in the afternoon, I abruptly let the dog out of the house. And enjoyed the way the tough bros suddenly squealed in childlike voices and rushed to run away.
I promised them, whoever comes in, they’ll get him. And I would smear gas grease on the fence, so they wouldn’t wash it off later. I’ve been living in peace for two weeks now: not one has come back yet. I hope they don’t come back. What else was I supposed to do?
