About Her.

I can't remember when we met.
I think we knew each other always.

She was small girl with big blue eyes and soft blond hair.
Her parents had the garden close to ours. Our was on the top of the hill next to the forest. Their-at the bottom, just around the main road.

Here I'm: thin, always broken laps, legs in bruises. Wind in my hair (..and in the head as mom would say).
I run down the hill and try to follow the track made by a truck in the ground. Our neighbours' gardens pass fast on the right side as I hasten. I fall several times and add myself extra blue-spots.
In the middle of the way I meet her. She had to run up the hill, and that was much more difficult obviously. But she never searched for easy ways.

We would climb the hill back and go to my parents' garden.
When we were small there was nothing better in the whole world than to lie naked on the water barrel, swing the legs and dream.
We spent all summers together and never saw each other in winters.

Then my parents got divorced. And I was never back to our garden again.

Time passed slowly in the new apartment  we moved to. It was early spring. Real Siberian spring.
I didn't know anybody from the yard and felt lonely at home after school.
I remember as if it was today when my mom saw Her in the window. Mom, actually, recognized the coat she made and gave to Her. I still remember it too.
She showed for a second and disappeared in the building block.

As summer was coming I was forced to go outside every day. I knew She was somewhere near.

Here I'm sitting and pretending to read while overwatching a group of girls playing in the yard. I wait for them to come and talk to me. I'm older and need to play cool.
And then She comes. The eyes, the blond hair, small-just-a-kitten-alike.
Then it was decided that we should be together.

We had a perfect childhood, didn't we?
She had to play a piano.  I had to study Maths and English.
But then parents let us go, we would make a fast way into a trouble. Thanks God, there was no Internet in 90s for us!

There was a big sandpit in the yard. We took Her Dad's geology book, found the picture with the structure of Earth, and decided to make the way to the core. We dug the whole day and evening till parents called us back.
In the next morning somebody put the sand back to our hole. Her Dad tried to explain us the impossibility of the task, but it was absolutely unimportant back then.
The dreams failed for first time in life.

I remember how Her Dad died. And all the people who came to say last bye to Him. They didn't fit in the yard.

We liked the same guys (that's probably because the choice was already very limited). We smoked together for the first time. We got drunk with the home-made vodka together as well.

We kept together even when I moved to St.Petersburg. And she came in a year. She came to be with me.
Then our paths separated for two years. I cut Her from my life and soon moved to Finland.
I wasn't near when She had the most difficult time of Her life. I gave Her friends but left Her for two years.
Two years. How much is it?

Now we are together again. 400 km between us, but that's nothing I know already.

She's a real woman: beautiful and wise. She has green eyes (have they ever been blue?) and red hair.
She just settled down.
I'm almost 2 years older, but I still call Her for an advice every time life goes down.
She is a strong woman. She had different times and people on her way. No guy could prove himself to be as strong as she is. So far.
But now it will be all different.

I will see her soon, and it will be the first Birthday of her we will spend together in many years.
I will look in her eyes and see myself in my parents garden. Sitting on the water barrel and swinging my legs. She will be near as always.
And I will cry.

How I met my mom.

They say we don't chose parents.
I'm not sure, but even if so, then I know the exact moment when I caught "the bird of luck" in my life. It was when I got my mom.
I was expected (or even supposed) to be a guy. My name would be Anton and I would do professional dancing. This was the plan. But surprise, surprise the girl was born. My parents and the rest of the relatives were shocked (like Finland gets shocked every winter with the heavy snow), and obviously didn't know what to do (again Finland-snow-parallel). Just because they didn't know what to do and how to dispose all the blue clothes bought (in Russia it's the must since the childhood: girls go pink, boys-blue, and no exceptions) , my folks didn't know as well how to call me.

I think it was then when my parents lost common ground in life. Anyways, mom wanted to call me Anya (full is Anna), dad insisted on Elena (in honer of his grandmother who lived like a 200-years-old-life). The battle could be never-ending and I could be still named "child-the-1st-of-December-number-one-hundred-something"  (or even worse, they could decide to name me after a saint of my day of birth. Who were surprise, surprise, only guys: Nikolai, Platon, Roman). BUT my dad made it easy and sneaky enough (in the good sense of this word) wrote the name you all know on the official paper while my mom was sleeping.

That's it. This is how I became Elena, Lena, Lenochka, Lenka, Alenka (say it as Alönka), and Lenusik to name just a few.


My mom said the first thing i did when the nurse brought me to her was to smile and say miaow!
My first word was "Day!" ("Give me" in English). I bet it couldn't be this one, they just missed the true-first-word. It must been "peace", "cookies" or "go vegetarian", and it really drives me crazy that the truth was lost.
And just to show you how much my parents cared for small details I could mention that it took them almost a month to notice that I have eyes of different colour (right-blue, left-green. Surprise, Surprise, if you didn't know that, it means that you know me as much as I'm aware of the Twilight story. And I'm not!)
((And if you've seen my eyes, you are or once have been very important to me. Anyways))

But don't think that it was just about my mom and dad, other relatives also participated in my upbringing.
My dad's side granny fed me with chocolate candies even before I got my first tooth, and my mom's side granny missed the moment when I fell down in the boiler casing while sitting on the potty-chair and singing cheerfully.
But al least they never forgot me in the kinder-garden.

Well, actually, the idea to write a post was nothing to do with my old childhood memories, they just came out self-invited. And the reason was that I had a WONDERFULL childhood. And there's no mistake in my word "wonderfuLL". It was FULL of love, understanding, care and people I will always keep in my heart. 

My mom always thought me to be an honest person, hard-working and to treat people worthily (which includes giving somebody a hard time if a person deserved it). She wanted me to be a lady, have my own style and speak German.
She always says that there's a great difference between "i wanted to do" ("i was doing but didn't finish, didn't succeed") and "i did" (in Russian they are the same verbs but in different cases).
The result only matters, not how hard you were trying (c)

My mom gets very much disappointed with me all the time: with my accounting skills (both academic and keeping a budget), with me calling my grandmom so rarely (but it's only because she always asks if I eat enough and if I have already found a guy worth marrying, and I never have anything new to tell her concerning these two).
My mom get's sad because I never listen to her and always choose the wrong men. And, of course, because I didn't want to study German when I was a kid and now I have to regret (the thing about the German language is that mom was English and German languages teacher).

But I know two things: that my mom loves me, and that she's my first and forever love.
Just in a while I will open a mail-box from her. It went a long-long road from Altay to Saint-Peterburg, took a couple of days off there and with the help of Anechka (help I can't over-rate) finally arrived in Helsinki.
In the box there are new dresses for mom's lady. My mom is my favourite clothes designer, and, of course,  mom knows that it's inside that matters (But who will look inside if you don't have a nice dress and high heels?)

I will call my mom tomorrow and say that I love her. With my mom Christmas is not once a year!

The Test of the Three Strainers.

 In ancient Greece, Socrates was highly reputed for his wisdom. One day someone came to the great philosopher and said to him “Do you know what I just heard about your friend?”

“One minute answered Socrates. Before you tell me, I would like you to pass a test, the three strainer test.”
“The three strainers?”
“Surely so,” said Socrates. “Before telling all kinds of things on others, it is good to take time to filter what we would like to say. That is what I call the test of the three strainers. The first strainer is the one of truth. Did you check if what you wish to tell is true?”
“No I only heard about it.”
“Very good. Then you do not know, if it is the truth.”
“Now let us try another way of straining by using a second strainer, the one of goodness. What you want to inform me about is something good?”
“Oh no! Just the opposite.”
“Then,” Socrates went on, “you want to tell me bad things about him and you are not sure that they are true.”
“Maybe you can still pass the test, because there is a last strainer, the one of usefulness. Is it useful that you inform me about what my friend could have done?”
“No, not really.”

“Then,” Socrates concluded, “if what you have to tell me is neither true, not good, or useful, why do you want to tell me about it?”