Biography of Griboedov Picabu

I am looking for that I am not visible, I can go on the bow. The zealous grid has been used, I easily raise the lower part, and the angel will come to visit me - so I call Lyoshka. Following Lyoshka, sniffing and sighing, Big Dog Buyan squeezes, he almost twice as much as his master. I put a large bowl in the middle of the strawberry bed. Lyoshka collects the largest and most ripe berries.

He has blond hair, blue eyes, spicy, protruding, like kvilles, shoulder blades. That is why I call him an angel. He is 5 years old. Inquisitive, kind. Now you and I will drink tea and buy another paint. My little angel without reminders, my hands are and worships. His favorite place is at the window. From the proposed dishes, he chooses to show another strawberries with milk and a warm buoy.

The buns is sprinkled with powdered sugar and over the upper lip at Lyoshka white sweet mustache. On the rug at the threshold lies Buyan. Here he is not a feather time, he knew at home and patiently waits for insolence. He gets a cheesecake. Buyan with pity, smells at a lonely curd pancake, then, without hiding one -time, at me and Lyoshka, asking for a look: that's all!? I read it to the most thing we have to dare, and I put a loop with a lhmaty neighbor with a soup.

Buyan applies us to and, without hoping, is taken for acne. An hour later, we’ll take a habit from a store with two banks of paint: white and green. The sky is blue, the sun is high, hot. I go home to change clothes, collect the remaining strawberries and buns into the package. A grandmother sits on the porch of the Leshkin house. She was blinded two years ago.

A little angel carefully straightens the scarf on her head so that it is smooth and beautiful, refuels the broken lock of hair. I put a cup of strawberries on my knees, I know that she loves her. On a covered Vepand, along with Lesha, we paint a stool with white paint, and Potom, from the second Baby - Konuru Buyan. Now it will be green. Lyoshka is satisfied, Byan is indifferent.

Lena, mother of Angel, returns from work. He praises his son for the work done, invites everyone to the table. Lyosha takes her grandmother by the hand and leads to the house. Then he feeds her with rice porridge, neatly and patiently. The old woman drinks tea independently, with caramel. One thing moves around the house, knows where which floorboards creaks.

Lena works in a roadside cafe, two kilometers from home. If the second shift returns late. All hope for a son. Out of the corner of my eye I follow Lyoshka, he evens a porridge with a piece of oil for both cheeks. Having drunk a bite of a sweet chaya, it leaves to watch the membranes. The child is already a man. Or vice versa: a man, but still a child? It gets the floor, can put the dishes, helps my grandmother get dressed, feeds it, wears two logs in the house, water in a small bucket.

And he also loves his dog and can sometimes cry bitterly when his mother shouts into a reasonably. He can happily dare when it bathes in the river, and spray of water is highly alcoholic and swell at the dream. Lena escorts me to the gate. I ask you not to scream at Lyoshka. He is a man, do not humiliate him. Find the reason to praise.

Lena begins to complain about a hard life, on a blind mother, on a small salary. I am in touch: my own, mom lives and nearby, there is work, there is a downtime son, herself is healthy. Know how to cherish what is and do not look at the other. LENA smiles and waves goodbye with her hand. My classes with Leshkoy do not get a lot, at five, he already fluently reads his grandmother “The Snow Queen”.

And in quiet calm evenings, we stomp with extension on the river. The sun is a ripe sunflower, slowly goes into the forest, releasing the last warm rays. The clouds illuminated from the bottom are cast in gold. Everything around falls asleep, rests from the fuss and sounds. Our rejection with Lyoshka does not scare away a curious fish at all, and soon a couple, with a scales, is already splashing in a bank.

Dinner of the mo -melted cat is seized with me an angel flew to me. He is already an adult, a respected doctor, a surgeon. Not many times in the GOD, the graves of mother and grandmother will visit, and then, bewitched by gstes, enters my house. Everyone calls him Alexei Nikolaevich, but I know that this is an angel! Bolly, width -fingering and very good angel. In a love of the year, he puts a basket with a strawberry on the table, sits on his favorite in Okn and smiles fraudulently.

He drinks tea with tapping buns, diggers on the porch of a cigarette, and moving, hugs the eararly, warm, warm wings Author: Gansufeorn.