Bordo kaput/Burgundy coat

" Praznik je na pragu , a mene jedu brige
koliko još sreće mogu Majko da ti pružim
više nije vreme za cveće i knjige
nego kako život, ja da ti produžim.

Praznik je na pragu, a mene jedu brige
koliko još sećanja mogu da ti pružim
Nije više vreme za cveće i knjige
nego kako majko da ti se odužim?"

Po mom uvodu , pretpostsvljam da znate kome je posvećena moja današnja prića.

Moja mama se zove Milica. Najstarija je od njih 4 ćerke koje su dobili moji nana i deda. Samim tim što je najstarija, sve brige i muke ona je nosila na svojim leđima. I sve izdržala. Sada, kada moja mama ima 75 godina, sestre joj tu njenu brigu za njih, u njihovom detinjstvu i mladosti , vraćaju onako kako to samo sestre najbolje znaju.

Završila je srednju trgovačku školu u Loznici, a zatim u Šapcu i višu školu. Odmah je počela da radi i da svojom platom doprinosi domaćinstvu. Da školuje sestre, da im kupuje garderobu po najnovijoj modi, da imaju za izlazak… A , ona ? Ona je nosila ono što joj njena majka sašije. Dok su tetke uveliko nosile miniće, odlazile na more, šminkale se, lakirale nokte, moju mamu je njen otac, moj deda, naterao da nožem struže lak sa noktiju , a aceton joj je stavljao ispod nosa.Od tada, moja mama nikada nije nalakirala nokte I nije se šminkala. Sve je to mama izgurala. Utehu je imala kod svoje majke i bake.

Kada je imala 21. godinu upoznala je mog tatu. Milenko. Lep, zgodan, obrazovan momak, ali sa patnjom u duši koju je nosio do smrti. Naime, tata je bio siroče. Otac , moj deda Stanko, poginuo je na Sremskom frontu , 19. aprila 1945. Moj tata se rodio 16. 6. 1945. Oca nikada nije ni video. Majka ga je ostavila kada je imao 4 godine i udala se za drugog čoveka, kojem je rodila ćerku i dva sina. O tatinoj sudbini, čitaćete nekom drugom prilikom. Previše se tuge skuplja, ako pišem odjednom i o mami i tati.  

Zavoleli su se I posle godinu dana venčali. U početku su živeli sa nanom i dedom, jer je stan bio veliki. Tu smo, u tom stanu rođene i sestra i ja.  Do moje šeste godine , dok nisu napravili kuću, svi smo živeli lepo, složno. Kuća nije bila daleko od stana, pa se činilo kao da se nismo ni odselili. Za nas, moju sestru i mene , izgledalo je tako. Za mamu i tatu , nije.  Pored kuće, plac ima još 5 ari. To je za njih bio raj. Imali smo baštu, voće, povrće, travnjak, imali smo oazu mira.

Prolazile su godine. Sestra i ja smo uvek imale što nam je trebalo. Nova garderoba, po modi, obuća, pribor za učenje, prve kožne jakne, kaubojke…sve kako se u mojoj mladosti nosilo- Obe smo bile uvek dobri đaci, lepo vaspitane i oboje su se ponosili sa nama. Kada sam bila 6. razred, negde baš ovo zimsko vreme, mama se spremala na posao i ja začuh neku raspravu. Tata nešto priča mami, a ona govori: “Neću, ne treba mi!” Prišunjala sam se vratima i čula priču. Kroz suze sam tiho progovorila: “Kakva smo mi to deca?” Utrčala sam u dnevnu sobu gde je mama u kaputu spremna čekala da tata i ona krenu i samo sam je zapitala: “ Mama , koliko ti je star taj kaput?” Ona je ćutala, a tata je rekao: “Oko toga se i rspravljamo. Pobogu, nije kaput 100 hiljada. Idemo da kupiš nov!” A, onda se sa suzama u očima okrenuo meni i rekao: “ Sine, kaput je star 13 godina!” Ja sam ostala bez daha.

Nije mi bilo jasno, kako mi nikada nismo to primetile. A , onda sam se setila, da je uvek, kao šef stare robne kuće “Jadar” u Loznici, mama išla besprekorno obučena. Zimi je imala velike ešarpe koje su tako lepo pristajale uz taj bordo kaput, da nikada nismo ni primetile da je to jedan isti. Kupljen pre mog rođenja.

Svi četvoro smo odah za vikebd krenuli za Beograd. Spavali smo kod mamine sestre, moje omiljene tetke Marije i sutradan, šetali po Beogradu, birajući mami nov kaput. Kupila je dva. Jednu dolamicu-tako smo zvali i jedan prelepi crni dugi kaput sa dva reda kopčanja.

Završila sam Višu pedagošku i od prve plate znate li šta sam kupila ? Ne . Nisam mami kupila  kaput. Kupila sam isti bordo materijal i  kod najpoznatijeg šnajdera u Loznici naručila isti kaput kao što je bio mamin.

Ovo je 1. deo priče o mojoj mami. Hvala što ste pročitali članak. Ako vam se sviđa, biće mi drago, jer imam još mnogo kockica da posložim u mojoj glavi I da krenem sa drugim delom.

Hvala svima od srca!

Moja mama, mesec dana pre udaje, 1967.

"The holiday is on the doorstep, and I'm worried about how much more happiness I can give you, Mother, it's no longer time for flowers and books, but how can I prolong your life. The holiday is on the doorstep, and I'm worried about how much more memories I can give you. more time for flowers and books than than as a mother to repay you? " In my introduction, I assume you know to whom my story today is dedicated.

 My mom's name is Milica. The oldest of them is 4 daughters given to my grandmother and grandfather. Being the oldest, she carried all the worries and torments on her back. And she endured everything. Now, when my mother is 75 years old, her sisters return her care for them, in their childhood and youth, as only sisters know best. She finished high school in Loznica, and then in Sabac and high school. She immediately started working and contributing to the household with her salary. 

To educate the sisters, to buy them clothes in the latest fashion, to have them to go out… And she? She wore what her mother sewed for her. While my aunts wore miniskirts, went to the sea, put on make-up, painted their nails, my mother, my grandfather, made my mother scrape the nail polish off with a knife, and put acetone under her nose. Since then, my mother has never painted nails And she didn't put on make-up. Mom pushed it all out. She had comfort with her mother and grandmother. 

When she was 22, she met my dad. Milenko. A handsome, handsome, educated guy, but with suffering in his soul that he carried until his death. Namely, Dad was an orphan. My father, my grandfather Stanko, died on the Srem front, on April 19, 1945. My father was born on June 16, 1945. He never saw his father. His mother left him when he was 4 years old and she married another man, to whom she gave birth to a daughter and two sons. You will read about Dad's destiny on another occasion. Too much sadness accumulates, if I write about mom and dad at once. 

They fell in love and got married a year later. In the beginning, they lived with their grandmother and grandfather, because the apartment was big. My sister and I were born in that apartment. Until my sixth year, until they built a house, we all lived beautifully, harmoniously. The house was not far from the apartment, so it seemed like we hadn’t even moved out. For us, my sister and me, it looked like that. For mom and dad, it's not. In addition to the house, the plot has another 5 acres. It was paradise for them. We had a garden, fruits, vegetables, a lawn, we had an oasis of peace. Years passed. 

My sister and I always had what we needed. New wardrobe, fashionable, footwear, learning accessories, first leather jackets, cowgirls… everything as it was in my youth- We were both always good students, well-mannered and they were both proud of us. When I was in the 6th grade, somewhere this winter, my mother was getting ready for work and I heard some discussion. Dad says something to Mom, and she says, "I won't, I don't need it!" I crept to the door and heard the story. Through my tears I spoke softly: "What kind of children are we?" I ran into the living room where Mom in a coat was ready to wait for Dad and she to leave and I just asked her, "Mom, how old is that coat of yours?" She was silent, and Dad said: "We are arguing about that. For God's sake, it's not a 100,000 coat. Let's go buy a new one! ” And then, with tears in his eyes, he turned to me and said, "Son, the coat is 13 years old!" I was out of breath with my mother. It was not clear to me how we never noticed that. 

And then I remembered, that always, as the head of the old department store "Jadar" in Loznica, my mother walked impeccably dressed. In the winter, she had large scarves that fit so nicely with that burgundy coat, that we never even noticed that it was the same one. Bought before I was born. All four of us went to Belgrade for the weekend. We slept with my mother's sister, my favorite aunt Marija, and the next day we walked around Belgrade, choosing my mother's new coat. She bought two. One dolamica - that's what we called a beautiful black long coat with two rows of buttons.

 I graduated from the Higher Pedagogical School and from the first salary do you know what I bought? Not . I didn't buy my mom a coat. I bought the same burgundy material and ordered the same coat from the most famous tailor in Loznica as my mother's. This is the first part of my mom's story. Thanks for reading the article. If you like it, I'll be glad to, because I still have a lot of dice to put in my head and start with the other part. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!