Tatiana Borisik: Nobody and nothing will be able to kill the soul of his native

My forefathers believed in many miracles.
Believed that if we rewrite and always carry a text order "Son of God Mom", then you will avoid all the troubles, even the bullet did not touch, from the war alive back.
Believed that mushrooms rainbow yes agaric cancer rescue.
Believed that the groundhog fright whispered yes you can.
And I also wanted to believe in it.
Yes only …
Died in the war every fourth.
Onkodispansere continue to be built.
Generation of ninety eighty-out uniformly, and those who were 70 surochvats capable and can no longer adshaptats.
In the world there are not quite enough things, which I really believe. Miracles do not seek, doing everyday chores and look forward to their success.
That food on bicycle or in the autumn forest shtetl shop. Travel far — which just can not remember the road, especially when walking on it for life. For some reason recalled how 10 years backwards in the student walked in I syudoyu working direction Glushanskom bus with languid knapsack that vzdets his shoulders could only putting on the bench.
Winter. Claus. Rolled in the snow.
Eraser of your jacket case I hurt wrist watches. He apparently was unbuttoned and fell into the snow. I looked around — it’s too late already. Almost half way passed. Tried to return back. But where’s his otyschesh!
Roads not shelled from morning. Through resentment and lethargy eyes welling with tears. No more lugging a satchel forces, but there is still four kilometers.
Grandma said, "This is what we are guilty, you lost it, you’re riding the same to us." And gave funds for a new watch.
And now no one will ever call me a granddaughter — my grandmother Three years, both died. Grandfather when he came to the cemetery to her, always greeted with the words: "Hello, krosotka" And the last time said: "Soon I will come to you for." And just then, about his great-granddaughter, my daughter did the first independent steps, he left us to it, as promised.
Now I believe — my grandparents certainly someone will meet in heaven.
Hunting believe in the best …
My daughter is already stomping down the street and my first his ecstasy — this is the gate and cats.
Might be coming to the gate, trying to open it — knocks, pulls. Yes, just do not open the gate, no one goes to meet them, because they are closed forever, abandoned house. Child while do not realize it.
She also loves to catch cats, but they get away. Then Mihalinka says his favorite word: "fear, fear …" And I’m looking at her, I believe — to knock on the doors are closed forever and knowingly utter the word "fear", it will have less often than their parents and grandparents.
…For ideas, I did not see how to get. Distinguished Glusha greets me pines along the road yes alkashovskay by a roadside kiosk. Great I pull along the stairs to the door of the store, across the bottom do not leave. This allows me to believe that in the back way, I’ll go and not go.
"There are bandits missing — not uzreesh as stolen," — says the old guy, and too large to pull their own doors.
I waited really great. Thirty minutes to forty I’ll be home with goodies.
"What are you old trees! The town has such you will not find. Here people, for sure, third century living and nights wandering ghosts in several generations," — so described my small home-citizen girlfriend.
Ghosts-people-house ghosts, ghosts-name …
Village disappear. But somewhere deep down in my memory, in memory of the millions of my fellow citizens, fellow native landscapes hidden yellowed notebook with orders freeze viburnum berries taste. I believe — nothing and no one, regardless of the configuration in the topography, fails to kill the country at heart.
Tatiana Borisik — a young writer from Mogilev, which gives inspiration grandfathers birthplace, the village Krugloniva in Bobruisk area where it often and for a long time there.

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