Our neighbourhood was friendly and always ready to help. We were like an extended family. Aunt Shura, uncle Sasha, aunt Masha, aunt Kseniya, other aunties and grannies were like relatives for me.
The housewives used to whitewash walls in houses twice a year: before Easter in spring and after gathering the harvest of potato in autumn. The women would gather to help each other. A flock of merry singing women would clean a house a day.
Each household in the village had a huge field. Planting and gathering potato was also an event. Everybody took part. Potato was considered to be as important as bread. Day by day, a field by a field was worked out.
A guest of a house was sure to visit each house. Holidays were celebrated together. Everything was done together. We, children, were like sisters and brothers too. Neighbour-twin-sisters and I seemed to be inseparable.
Once two pairs of winter boots were bought. New, red, sparkling with bright fasteners were boots. Fairy boots! But… they were not for me. They were for those twin-sisters. I was crying and weeping- I had hysterics-but alone. I had a special place of me – in the corner between two fences, behind a house building, under a big tree. Nobody knew about it. Nobody could see me. It was there where I realized that my Mum couldn’t afford buying such expensive things. It was there where I hit on the idea that being like relatives and being relatives isn’t the same. Well, it was a good lesson, a good flick on my nose. The cobbler should stick to his last.