Твоя девочка выросла, мама, выросла. У неё уже...

Your girl has grown, mom, grown. She already has cigarettes instead of dolls, contraceptives in the first drawer of the table, high heels and no Czechs, plaid skirts and a bed with soft toys. She doesn’t sleep at night for a long time, often doesn’t come at all, and her voice in the phone cold whispers to you - I'm fine, mom, I'm fine. She still has the same round large pupils, but already very expensive shadows and a carefully smeared blue under tired eyes. She still has the same cold fingers, but she rarely puts them in your palm, preferring to take by the arm. Your girl has grown, mom, grown. And her phone rings more often than yours and she already helps you solve your adult problems. And already you listen to her advice and judgments. No one is wiping her rare evil tears of pain, she will quietly put them into the pillow, clenching her teeth in a creak, herself. Even now, she does not hesitate to whisper confidentially with you in the evenings about funny and difficult little things in life. Your girl has grown, mom, grown. She now has adult toys and, instead of posters on the walls of the room, from her silvered tabletop frame, her beloved boy calmly looks at you. She gives you expensive gifts, laughs in response to your exhortations to be more economical and says - I will come in the morning. And never reproaches you and does not reproach the past and does not judge for mistakes. And most of all in the world again wants to become small in order to show off her successes to the most important eyes on the earth, eyes that shine with joy for her. You were so afraid, mother, and she grew up, she could, herself, and you can be proud of her, mother, she so wants this.

(from.)