June 12th. I made plans for this day to take a walk in Kirov, to watch festive events and performances by Moscow artists. June 12 is a public holiday, Independence Day, but it is unknown from what or whom.
But on the evening of June 10, I had to reconsider all my plans.
Yesterday, June 12, we had an unexpected meeting of classmates. On the evening of June 10, we received the news that our classmate, my best childhood friend Vova, Vovka, had died. And that's what we always called him.
I met him when I was 5 years old. I still remember that meeting. We met on our village street. He asked me for a bike, but I didn't give it to him. A few days later, it turned out that our parents began to be friends and since then we have been the best of friends.
After graduating from our secondary rural school in 1986, life took us in different directions. Volodya and I saw each other very rarely. He was like an Indian named Elusive Joe, appearing and disappearing just as suddenly. I've heard about him completely from random people. The last time he appeared at a meeting of classmates was 3 years ago, but I was not at that meeting.
And yesterday he gathered us together again. And he stayed at our village cemetery, and we went to the pond to remember our school stories.
We gathered at this place in 1996 after 10 years of graduating from school. That year we were the largest number at the meeting. Since then, there have been a lot fewer of us. A lot of guys have already passed away from us. And a few girls have also left us forever.
This is our school. It was put into operation in 1979. She seemed very big and beautiful to me. Now I see this school of ours a little differently. It's small and not even pretty.
Thank you all very much for your attention.
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