У мамы в серванте жил хрусталь. Салатницы, фруктовницы,...

My mother lived in the sideboard crystal. Salad bowls, fruit bowls,
herring. Everything is bulky, impractical. And more china. Beautiful, with iridescent patterns of flowers and butterflies. A set of 12 plates, tea pairs, and hot dishes. Mom bought it back in Soviet times, and went somewhere at night with number 28 on her hand. She called it: "Urval." When we had guests, I laid on the table a boiled white tablecloth. The tablecloth asked for smart china.

- Mom, can I?
- No, this is for guests.
- So we have guests!
- What kind of guests are they! Neighbors yes women Pauline ...

I realized: for porcelain to leave the sideboard, it is necessary for the English queen to leave London and look into the sleeping area of ​​Kapotney, to visit her mother. It used to be: buy and wait for real life to begin. And the one that is already today is not considered. What kind of life is this? Complete overcoming. Little money, little joy, a lot of problems. Real life will begin later. Just once - and begin. And on this day we will eat soup from a crystal tureen and drink tea from porcelain cups.

But not today.

When mom got sick, she almost never left the house. Moved in a wheelchair, walked with crutches, holding the hand of an escort.
“Take me to the market,” my mother asked once.
- And what do you want?

In recent years, I bought clothes for mom, and always guessed. Although I did not really like shopping for her: we had different tastes. And what I didn’t like was for sure my mom’s liking. Therefore, it was such anti-shopping - it was necessary to choose something that I would never have bought for myself - and it was these new things that made my mother delighted.
- I need new underwear, I lost weight. In the end, we went to the store. He was in the shopping center, at the entrance, on the ground floor. From the car parked at the entrance to the store we walked for about forty minutes. Mom hardly rearranged sore legs. Have come. Have chosen. They tried it on.

“It's very expensive and you can't bargain,” said mom. - Let's go somewhere else.
“Buy here, I’m crying,” I say. “This is the only store within your walking distance.”
Mom realized that I was right, did not argue. Mom chose the laundry.
- How much is?
“It doesn't matter,” I say.
- Important. I should know.

Mom is a fan of control. It is important for her that she made the decision to purchase.

“Five thousand,” the seller says.
- Five thousand for cowards ?????
- This is a kit from the new collection.
- What difference does it make under clothes !!!! - mom is outraged.
I wink at the seller with all my might, showing a pantomime. Like, lie.
“Oh,” the saleswoman says, looking at me. - I added an extra zero. Five hundred rubles is a set.
- That's it! He surely has three hundred rubles a red price, but we're just tired ... Maybe you can throw off a couple of hundred?
“Mom, this is a store,” I interfere. - There are fixed prices. This is not Cherkizon.

I pay from the card so that my mother does not see bills. Immediately I crush the check so that the extra zero does not fall into her eyes. We take purchases. We go to the car.

- A good kit. Smart. I specifically said that I don’t like it, so as not to show interest. What if they would have thrown us a couple of hundred. Never show the seller that you liked a thing. Otherwise, you're hooked.
“Good,” I say.
- And always bargain. What if they throw off?
- Good.

All my life I have been receiving advice that is not applicable in my world. I call them pagers. It seems like they are, but in the age of mobile is no longer necessary.

One day my mother rang the doorbell. She walked for a long time to the door. But behind the door stood a patient and smiling young guy. He was selling a set of knives. Mom let him in without hesitation. An imprudent pensioner let a broad-shouldered young man with knives into the apartment. No comment. The guy told his mother about steel, about how a knife can cut a handkerchief, thrown up, on the fly.

“And I live without a man, there are never any sharpened knives in the house,” my mother complained.

She showed interest. Although she herself taught not to show. It was a small show. There have been few shows in my mother’s life. That is a lot, but only on the TV. And here - in reality. The guy did not sell knives. He was selling the show. And he sold it. The guy announced the price. Usually this set costs five thousand, but today only 2.5. And as a gift a cookbook. “Well then! Also a cookbook! ” - thought my mother, who had never cooked a prescription in her life: she felt the product and knew what and why should be added to the soup. Mom understood: knives must be taken. And took it.

Mom's pension is 9 thousand. If she lived alone, then enough for a communal apartment and bread and milk. No medicine, no clothes, no underwear. And without knives. But since I paid for my communal apartment, medicine, food, and clothes, my mother’s pension allowed her to feel independent. The next day I came to visit. Mom began to show off knives. She talked about a scarf that can be cut right on the fly. Why cut shawls on the fly and generally why cut shawls? I did not understand this marketing ploy. I knew that she had some Chinese consumer goods in her elegant suitcase. But was silent. Mom likes to make decisions and does not like to be judged.

- So what did you hide the knives, did not put in the kitchens