In the morning, my mother was collecting her things. She opened her closet again again, sorted her old hands again and again, some unnecessary, in my opinion, things. There were some faded scarves, linen towels, which are no longer bought in any store. I was silent. Mom didn’t want to talk. I saw how it was not easy for her to say goodbye to the village, with her little and such a native house. Her life here. Today I take my mom to myself. But do not believe: in her eyes for some reason there is no happiness, joy, though she knows that we love her, she will have good, we will be fine,

In the city, she is waiting for little grandchildren who grew up on grandmother’s pies and fairy tales. Mom did not take any bags or packages, she, even in habit, put everything in knots. I know that I will buy her all the things she needed: both clothes, shoes, and brand new bright bathrobes, coats. So I did not interfere with my mother, did not say that she did not take something. Let it take everything that is so dear to her. Today I take my mom from the village to the city. Now I know that she should look after her so that she is well and comfortable with us. Now I feel like my old mother’s mom.