Little stories of love

My parents dated for 7 years before they got married, and all that time mom thought dad was a janitor (he told her so), and after they got married mom found out he was a boeing pilot.

Mom has lost her ability to speak since her stroke. Speech recovery is poor and slow, but the first phrase she mastered was: “I love you, my daughter.”

My husband is on a business trip. He calls me every night before bedtime to sing him a lullaby. A lullaby! He says he can’t sleep without it. The man is 40 years old, “cabinet 2×2”, now abroad opens the third branch of his company, a stern-looking man with a tattoo halfway down his back… And we need a lullaby not just any one, but from the cartoon about Umka – others do not work. What about me? I sing.

My grandmother lives in the village. Every chance I got, I was taken there. Through one house lived grandparents, and they had a grandson, older than me by 4 years, he babysat me when I was a baby. When I was 3, he used to rub green on my knees. At 5, he taught me to read. At 10, he protected me from the boys. When I was 15, I came to the country, he was in the army, that was the longest summer. At 17, he helped me through the death of a friend. At 19, he pulled me out of a depression. Now I’m 24 and he’s 28. Today he became my husband.

I recently broke up with a young man I loved very much; I was terribly worried. And then a certain “secret admirer” began to give flowers. And my mood immediately improved. Yesterday I found out that the “secret admirer” is my dad. The most favorite and best dad in the world.

In the 9th month of pregnancy I asked my husband to paint my toenails. He refused for a long time: I don’t know how to do it, it’s not a man’s business. I got offended, went into the shower and heard: “Okay, Google, how do you paint your toenails?”

I work in shifts: two days at work, two days at home. My wife has started to pack me breakfasts and all sorts of tasty surprises. I am happy as a child to find in the boxes with food notes in which she wishes me a pleasant appetite and writes how much she loves me. No one has ever done that for me.

That pregnant women can be weird and cranky, I knew. And I was prepared for it. Or rather, I thought I was. And now I’m tweezing raspberries because they’re “hairy and prickly.”

I spent most of my childhood, often visiting my mother at work in a children’s cancer rehabilitation center. So, one 17 year old girl and her boyfriend made a lifelong impression. She had osteosarcoma, had several sessions of chemotherapy, cut off her left leg above the knee. One day her boyfriend came to visit her, and the girl said to him, “Let’s split up, I don’t want to ruin your life.

The guy told her a firm “no” and said that she was the best for him. I met them by chance not too long ago. She is in pants, with a prosthesis, of course, go, holding hands, with them two children. They got to talking, and the older son (he’s 6) got into the conversation and proudly declared that his mom was the best because she was the Terminator.

Source: https://pressa.tv/read/52951-korotkie-istorii-o-lyubvi.html