Squiggle with old brooch
One day I heard the doorbell rang. Clinging to protruding porthole, I saw an old woman. Little and crooked.
«Excuse me, I’m your neighbor … from 64 apartments … I left from hospital just now, and I gave all my money for medical treatment … five thousand … maybe … you can help me … 15 rubles or less. I have absolutely nothing to eat … «— because of the large doors her voice was surprisingly clear, though, and trembled.
I immediately imagined as 60 years ago this woman in a brown coat was singing in some choirs. And she wore of course not a coat, but may be dress and shoes with rounded toe. And certainly in the demonstrations she shouting: «Long live Comrade Stalin.» And perhaps she is not currently participates in the voting.
I stood silently, eyes and clinging to hear the old woman more and more quietly repeats: «I’m sorry please forgive me, please, excuse me …» She stands at the door of a stranger, not even knowing if there is someone behind it. She did not even know what the other side of the door I stood … She stands and apologizes. These are two feelings struggling within me at this point: pity and fear. I never open the door to strangers.
«I’ll see if there’s anything in my home» — I said through the door of an old woman and I continued to stand to watch it. The old squiggle walked slowly to the neighbor’s door. And again her speech: «Excuse me, please», it turned into a void, or .. immediately to the world …
The third door on the floor, the fourth … No one can borrow to old woman for fifteen rubles — no one else. There are in my house no extra fifteen rubles too. I stand and I think about that today I’ll give her money, and tomorrow she comes again … and then again and again. What is if someone is around the corner? I’ll open the door, and — boom! — Someone hit my head and «the end»…
We are so scared … and I’m ashamed to admit it. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m afraid to open my door to strangers. That I call my husband if he is delayed at work, I am afraid of the dark streets and shadows … Shadow is especially frightening. You know, when I go into some alley of St. Petersburg, I see my shadow begin to multiply.
First they crawl on one wall, then run to another, they are behind you first, and then the front .. Strange lighting creates the illusion that you are not alone … And it becomes scary. You come out of the subway every day and you see black and white portraits of the two missing boys. As long as you reach up to the house, so many thoughts in my head sweep … They say that boys were seen with some woman at the train station … What is happening in the lives of these children, what kind of trouble they got …
And on the my home way I met a man on crutches. He stood by the road and also asks for help. He spreads on the ground pureed baby blanket, lays on it books, old toys and asks you to buy it. Yesterday, he asked to buy his plush white cat with a laser eyes and a pair of pads with a picture of Mickey Mouse. He says that he nees money for the treatment of someone. And last week, he stood and cried: «Bitch, buy! Bitch, buy something from me…! «
First, he sobbed, and then cried, then calmed down, wiping his mouth on his sleeve … and then began to cry again. Nobody wanted to buy anything.
I stood there and was looking to an old woman in the eye of my door. In my hand all the coins that were in my house. My palms sweaty. Squiggle clumsily turned to the door. I opened the door. «Here,» — I held out her hands to the penny. She held up her gray palm.
«Do not get sick» — I said to her and closed the door. She stood a little bit with coins. She was so close that I felt the smell of old age and poor and I could see the brooch on the scarf. Such a cheap brooch, with brown stone. And the flowers were bright scarf once. They were green and red with gold Lurex thread. Under the coat Squiggle is wearing of homely bag. She placed the coins there and went to the door … The poor old lady …
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World poverty,homelessness, desperation,illness, sadness, depression etc. humans have to endure much. its terrible to read stories like this which seem to be commonplace now. Endless stories of sorrow, people only waiting for death but in the meantime hoping to survive one more day. It would appear uncomplicated to give charity but the giver too has fears they have to overcome before they can act on their human instincts. Its best not to judge if the person is legitimate or not….the moral here is never pass on an opportunity to be charitable you will become the better person for it.