When you’re a mom of a young son — you…

When you’re a mom of a young son I don’t think that someday he will rise, and the day will come when your little six-foot bearded little lead under your bright eyes the girl, and say: “Mom, meet the love of my life!”, and you’re so look and think: “Strange Sort, and not blind: recently a medical examination in the military enlistment office was held – they said that vision completely, but drat: lied to all the nasty doctors, but would anybody in the army to pick up, even a totally blind boy LIKE? Than he looks? where is he looking? What is the love of his life?? But is there for her mom the berry grow, nights not to fill up and Agusha he was finished? Yes, it is TERRIBLE!” And so on And this day comes in the life of almost every mom will Not withdraw from the accounts of those lucky people who saw the first girlfriend of his son, and rushed to her chest with tears and cries: “Lord, dear, dear! What a beautiful, rich and smart! It’s obvious: you’re the best in the world! That’s one mother of berry grow, diathesis in the ass he was treated, and his tests in a matchbox at seven in the morning, in winter, in a snowstorm, the children’s clinic wore! Come into my house – my door is open, I’ll sing you a song and wine treat!” But not everyone is so lucky? I have long thought that I have some kind of syndrome single mother Well, that, you know, when all your life your son has lived, and how it’s time he own a family: so then hop and the hood suddenly went And let in five times a day strokes simulate, to fall into a coma and dying voice asking to call a priest, the notary and the coroner van Just the son beside you were busy, but not with its unpleasant woman at the cinema was jamalca in the dark I, of course, not all so bad, but that feeling of “Yes, no one was born clever and beautiful, and my berry you deserve!” is I had and have always But Chota was talking with a friend who told the story to his mother brought the girl her favorite, and my mom fainted naturally Because the love of his life was in acne, like a flowerbed near the Kremlin wall in anythinig the Other eyes on those acne was spit from the bell tower, he left and did not notice But the mother quietly gasped, and fell All sort of subtly hinting, the choice of the son to her as something not very much Later, many, many years, when each married another woman (which my mom liked the first), and then suffered in her marriage for several years, forcing mother’s heart to suffer – mother said, “you Know, you would be better on the pimply your married I’m before you pass out, I noticed that her eyes and thoughts pure And your soul is light, and his smile is beautiful And acne-it is not so much there, and a figure like Marilyn Monroe In General, a fool I’m a fool, I’m sorry, son” And then I also remembered how a few years ago I met the mother of his former love with whom I remember very well, the relationship I have not had the right away, from the word “quite” Because I wasn’t just pimply and terrible, but also a punk with a green Mohawk and a bald head And torn jeans, and a t-shirt with Egor Letov, and with pins in his ears and makeup “Crash, daughter ment,” and her son Smoking taught This I now realize that in the place of this Holy woman, which just hiccupped and shook – I would my son to the hospital would be handed over immediately, Well, vision test, IQ count, and a couple of times shock to hit him slightly, to come And maybe even grandmother to some ran On the subject to know and not drugged whether my child some kind of love potion from the dried ascarids and claw wombat? So I Met Seregino mom, and unbelievably she recognized me Even after more than twenty years, Took my arm and we sat down with her on a bench, talked for life, for children, for grandchildren, for pressure and glaucoma, and that it I often thought Though, believe it or not, a kind word they Say, better if you, Serguei, for the bald and green got married and her family was decent, his grandfather is the Hero of the Soviet Union And that her dad was an alcoholic and our pribuhnut loved, why not? Well I remember how you loved her as your eyes glowed with happiness debility give Birth to right now kids, and never mind that brachocki would be – I would still loved them And so kind and married someone, and the woman there bad, and grandchildren, I strongly suspect that it is not my blood You, Lida, my mistakes don’t repeat, Like it or not, and in the eyes of my son immediately see a moron look like? Saliva bubbles? Eyes happy? All do not go, and love it immediately, even if it is a little nicer Yushchenko it your child is happy doing, okay? Understand, aunt Tamar And glory work that time even though the one-legged black woman advanced in years, already do not care By then, we will always have something to talk about: the funeral of Brezhnev, Vysotsky, coffee gum if Only his eyes were retarded and happy And drooling with bubbles

Leave a Reply