“Summer, summer, summer….” Hot summer in Kiev. I remember only hot summer. And…., of course, guests from the capital of “our Motherland.” Papa’s cousin Aunt Zina with a child of 6 and with her husband Misha. They came for a whole month on holiday to us in the one-room apartment. They announced by telegram: “meet the first Moscow–Kiev train, carriage …., 9 in the morning.” They announced their arrival “categorically”: We will come to you! That is, they “did not require” an invitation from us. Simply, we will come to you on holiday to rest. They did not worry much about how they would fit! “Let the hosts think!” And what will they eat? — “Well, in Kiev there’s plenty of fruit! — “For fruit you have to walk to the market or ride, not in empty public transport.” Now I think, how did my mama endure all this?
Aunt Zina was a plump, noisy, optimistically set for holiday woman of about forty. She worked as a physiotherapist doctor at a polyclinic in the city of Fryazino. She told how everyone in the city respected her, everyone greeted her…. Uncle Misha, her husband, was a quiet, modest, small working man. But his tattoo was not modest at all — on the inner side of the right forearm — a naked woman. (I was then about 10 when I noticed it, and it greatly puzzled me, but I did not dare ask.) I want to give some explanations for young people. After all in those times tattoos were done only “on a special occasion, in certain places, namely, in prison and in the navy!” I think Uncle Misha all the same served in the navy, and did not sit.
In all, in our khrushchoba 7 people fitted. On the balcony Papa made a board flooring; from rain and weather a homemade canvas awning was “stretched,” and the balcony itself was enclosed with metal sheets (they, of course, in summer heated strongly in the sun). Well, nothing! At least on the balcony one could place as many as 4 sleeping places “jack-style.”
Morning with Aunt Zina began “loudly,” with the search for Marinka’s pants! I understood that Uncle Misha was “responsible” for Marinka’s pants, because Aunt Zina loudly issued the phrase: “Mishaaa, where are Marinka’s pants?” The further morning procedures of the large family I remember vaguely. First of all one had to feed my younger sister breakfast. She did not want to eat. Then Aunt Zina took the initiative into her hands and began to feed her with verses: “A lady was checking in luggage: a sofa, a suitcase, a holdall, a picture, a basket, a cardboard box and … a liiiittle dog!” … my sister ate one spoon of porridge…. then clearly pronounced at her 2.5 years: “I don’t want to eat any more and I won’t!” Noisy preparations continued for the beach. Mama stayed at home to cook dinner and go to the market.
To be continued….