... The universe of my soul is filled with light and peace, tenderness and kindness to everyone, to you - more, of course, because only you alone managed to bring this peace into my soul, opening my eyes to everything in a new way. Who knows, maybe you are now my Universe, where life has become so beautiful? Agree with this that this is so, but at the same time I clearly remember everything and everyone, not forgetting anyone. You know, I can’t forget the sincerity of my sister’s impulse when greeting me: how bright she is! And - my brother's look. Dear, close, affectionate... You know how similar we are in souls and characters to him, and - it’s impossible to forget his tears in his eyes when he said in the car: “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you! And your palms are cold.. "My brother grew up, but Time could not change us: our souls remained family. Grandma is also fine, but everything in that yard has become completely different from what it was before. Grandpa and I loved trees. They loved to retire and have heart-to-heart conversations in the greenery of grass and foliage... Everything was sincere, fair, planned out, with humor, with inspiration, and grandfather will forever remain alive with me in my Memory, the way I remember him: wise and calm, cheerful and kind, soft and gentle. They cut down the trees... They tore down the fence... The benches, the gazebo, the house grew old under the rains, the paths along which grandfather walked became bent... My plot was sold, - grandfather's blessing came to life, this plot reminded me of an orphan: the trees bear fruit, the late ones bloom aystra, and no one needs him. Who is his owner now? We do not know. And we can't know. Only Nature, grass, forest Log house, ponds - remained the same, containing the same beauty and mystery as before. The same road outside the yard with the stars shining, the same sounds of the falling asleep village, the same lights illuminating the sky from the lanterns of Poltava ... You and I talked on the street in the evening, or almost didn’t talk: words were not needed, the fresh, shivering September air permeated my body, and... I didn’t want to go into the house at all. Everything was the same as before. But the house is no longer the same: everywhere you can feel the imperious hand of the new owner - the aunt... You picked grapes, walked around the garden, we ate fruits, and everything felt so peaceful and calm, dear and unique, which cannot be described in words.. And were words necessary? Sometimes they become redundant, don’t they? And on the wire there was a swallow sitting... Basking in the rays of the morning sun, thinking about her own things... She was probably saying goodbye to her native place before leaving, I watched her for a long time: she was thoughtful and calm, sometimes she spread her wings, as if... I would try their power before the flight. Swallow - on a wire... What can it be compared to? Probably with notes of Autumn, where the leaves, falling on the wires, stick and also become notes, like the beginning of a gentle and bright September symphony... Well, tell me: isn’t our life wonderful? Grandma’s ices at the gate reminded me that my grandfather would soon have turned 85: he loved these flowers very much. And also - greenery and the smells of maples, lilacs, chestnuts... I loved Solitude, thoughts, I loved Life. The people who surrounded him. Just like you and me. ...A huge chestnut grew at the gate, delighting us with candles - in the spring and fruits - in the fall, yellow leaves - on the wet asphalt in October, and - there were a lot of Turkish luxurious lilacs with tight buds - in the spring, and with beautiful branches after flowering along the entire fence from the street... In this lilac, in its greenery, one could drown, hiding from everyone, as well as sit by the ponds with grandfather, (later - herself), constantly peering into the greatness of Nature: light, rolling waves, the sound of reeds and willow branches, the voices of flying birds, the smells of herbs and flowers... The soul was filled with peace and tenderness. Sun and Light... Having returned from the ponds, I could hide behind the yard on a bench, and, in the rays of the setting sun, write my works in solitude, where no one could see me. Or go upstairs, to the beginning of your former site: there was also one made by grandfather when.