[Part #2] Childhood Memories. [Dedicated to my Dear Parents. I am truely blessed!]

in life •  8 years ago 

Every summer we went to my father’s parents, who lived in 800 km from Moscow. In that remote village we’ve been spending almost 3 months of the summer. And it was always a real adventure. So many great stories have happened to us in the summer!

My father's parents lived in a small wooden one-story house on a small plot with garden. The whole village was surrounded by forest, where we spent most of the time collecting mushrooms, strawberries, raspberries and nuts; building the huts and playing games. We lit bonfires in the forest glades with friends and baked potatoes, which were sometimes stolen from someone’s garden. It was forbidden to make the fire there, so several times we had to run away from adults, using the secret paths, that we have found during our forest explore.

I also remember a lot of situations, that seem funny now, but were scary back then, such as when we got in abandoned house. It was an ordinary wooden house with garden, overgrown with weeds and boarded up doors and windows. An old woman, a little crazy, lived in the next house. We thought she hated kids, because she used to curse and run after us with a stick.

I remember once we climbed the fence of that house and crawled through the grass, watching this old crazy lady weeding her garden in about 20 meters from us. At some point I looked at her to make sure she doesn't see me, when suddenly she looked in my direction and our eyes met. I immediately jumped to my feet, screaming "Run!", and rushed to the fence. The lady rushed over me with a hoe and abusive cries, but fortunately I managed to climb over the fence and hide in the park.

Another time we were playing with “glass missiles” made of old trashy bulbs stuffed with sulfur. We set a launch pad of matches on the shores of a small river. Then we fire the matches and in a few seconds there was a loud bang, like an explosion of firecrackers, and this "mini-rocket" soared. Some of these missiles we found after and launched again.

Once there was a very strong hurricane, which knocked down a few large old pine trees in the park and in the woods. Some of them fell on houses and fences, destroying them. Hurricane occurred in the night, and one guy died of falling on a live electrical wire, torn by fallen tree. Moreover, the storm destroyed a small dam of fish breeding factory, and all the fish was in a small river, which flowed 100 meters from our garden. Next morning, when we went to the park to see the trees broken by the wind, we found a dozen people fishing in the shallow waters of this small river. We didn't join them, arguing that it was unfair.

Another thing happened by that river, where we found a wonderful place for our games. There were lots of colored stones to build water castles. We’ve been spending all days long in this place. Once we came there with our friends: the three brothers, the youngest of whom was about 5 or 6 years. We soon lost track of time, being completely immersed in our game of stones. And suddenly we saw a man dressed in old dirty clothes decisively approaching us with a bag in one hand and an axe in other. Horrible thoughts flashed in my head and I ran down the creek towards the house. My sister and two older brothers ran behind me. The youngest of three brothers remained still. We ran as being chased by wild animal. Soon we faced a giant thickets of nettles, forming some kind of impenetrable jungle. I began to clear a path with my bare hands without hesitation, paving the way for salvation. At some point we stopped and heard a loud scream of the youngest of the brothers, whom we left in the lurch. We began to argue about whether or not to go back and save him, but in the end no one dared to do so.

After a couple of hours, we reached the village still in shock. But to our surprise, the one we left at the river, was already home. Nothing bad happened, that man just took him home, seeing that we ran away, leaving the "small" one behind. Of course, we were ashamed that we saved our souls by forgetting about him. However, we justified ourselves that we would have been unable to help him.

And how many stories were related to fishing, which was the rage of all the village boys. Even I joined this mass enthusiasm at some point. Day after day we went to the local river to catch small fish with fishing rods and bread. But sometimes we biked for 15-20 miles to catch a really big one. There, in another village on the shore of a large lake, were found large carps, some of which were incredibly huge. To catch that fish, we woke up at 2 or 3 am, when the streets were still dark. Then we jumped on the bikes and hit the road. We drove through forests and fields, trying not to get hurt on the branches and bushes, unseen in the blackness of the night.

Pretty tired we came to the lake and laid out all our fishing gear. But we never had any luck. We didn't catch any big fish, so we stopped fishing and were just fooling around.

Once again when the luck turned away from us, we went along the shore of the lake to meet other fishermen and look at their catch. Seeing, that others have caught many big fish, we went back to our fishing rods, full of envy and resentment. And then, to express our despair, we began to throw our lunch: cucumbers, tomatoes and eggs, into the lake. We shouted: "Here is your lure! Come on, fish! Get it! Here's your food! Come on!" So we scared away the fish, hampering the fishermen near us. Relegating soul, we gathered our belongings and went back, coming up with another excuse, why we didn't catch anything.

I can tell you thousands of stories from my childhood. There were so many things I can't even remember now. And I'm sure each of you has many similar stories, though at times they sound silly and simple, but can affect the storyteller to his core.

And yet the main thing I want to say is a word of thanks to my parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle, who looked after us every summer.

Childhood is an amazing time. Magical. And I was lucky enough to enjoy my childhood just like no one else, thanks to the efforts of my parents, whom I am very grateful for that.

Dear Mom,
Dear Dad,
Thank you for everything you have given me!
I am truely blessed.

This is part #2, the previous part is here.

Authors get paid when people like you upvote their post.
If you enjoyed what you read here, create your account today and start earning FREE STEEM!
Sort Order:  

Why history of childhood enliven so wonderful?
Even if own childhood was not so beutiful as yours? Still feel incredible joy...:)
Thank you, Fedor.

Why history of childhood enliven so wonderful?

Maybe because in childhood we are less selfish? ;)
Thank you for your attention to this post, @olya!

Really?
It seemed to me - on the contrary...
Then it turns out - local the healing process from selfishness inefficient :)

Feel happy, at least you remember something, some people do not remember anything.

For example, I do not remember anything when I was nine years ago or less

This post has been linked to from another place on Steem.

Learn more about linkback bot v0.3

Upvote if you want the bot to continue posting linkbacks for your posts. Flag if otherwise. Built by @ontofractal