Russian version here http://www.proza.ru/2014/03/16/1933
Goodbye, son!
It was in May. A gray-haired man of about 70 years old was sitting under a dusty, blooming lilac bush. It was clear that he "took to his chest" (had a drink). A stick laid nearby.
From the expression of his eyes, I realized what he would say to me now, and I silently help him to get up.
"Thank you, son!"
He could hardly restrain himself so not to cry. Maybe he sat for long .. Yes, he had a jag on. But his kind, grateful look was much more than his dusty clothes, and incomprehensible speech.
He told all the way:
"Let God give you health! Let your children be healthy!"
"We go together. Do you live not far from here?"
"Yes, its not far. Do you see this gray house." And he pointed with the hand this house.
I led him carefully, holding the left elbow as in his right hand he had a stick. His legs were "dancing". Once I could not support him and we had to get up again ...
And the people looked and went for their business.
We came to the gray house. To the question of this wife by intercom,I replied: "The owner has come." She grunted, but opened.
Of course, the flat was on the 5th floor.
To encourage a man, I repeated: "So, a little more ... let's go forward ..." and in the same way. Finally, we have come.
The hostess was waiting at the open door.
"Why do I need him? I don’t need him! He is hanging all the time around the city! Bring him to your home!"
"Do you think I have a place?"
She was silent.
"Okay, let him sit on the bench in the hallway"
Thank God. A man who by age was suitable for me as a father, sat on a bench.
"Goodbye, son."
"Goodbye!"
May 2006 Translated into English on 30 Oct 2019