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My life - story 2

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Avatar for tmile
Written by   44
4 months ago

Zdravo dragi prijatelji. Nadam se da ste svi dobro. Evo da nastavim svoju zivotnu pricu. Pisala sam vam da imam mladju sestru,da smo rodjene i odrasle u radnickoj porodici. Kada su moji roditelji iz sela dosli u veliki grad, mnoga rodbina,kumovi, komsije su se setili njih. Ko god je imao nekog posla u Beogradu, zakucao je na nasa vrata. Mi smo uvek ziveli jako skromno u jednoj sobi...U Jednom uglu kredenac..Secate se onog zelenog kredenca? Mislim da su ove starije genercije bar negde videle. To nam je bila komplet kuhinja.Tu je bilo svo posudje,zacini,brasno, krompir...Pored njega stajao je drveni stocic, tata ga je napravio od nekih dasaka. Mama je uvek nalazila neku lepu kuhinjsku krpu da ga prekrije, da ulepsa sobu. Pored njega je bio sporet. Preko puta, na drugom zidu dva kauca.Na kaucu je uvek bila poslagana posteljina...lepa,bela,cista,ustirkana. Iza vrata dvokrilni ormar, na sredini sobe sto i cetiri drvene stolice bez naslona....na podu cilim. Znas li sta je cilim? Cilim  tradicionalna ručno tkana vunena tkanina koja se može koristiti kao tepih, prekrivač za krevet ili kauč. To je moja baka tkala i dala mami kada je krenula u beli svet.....Dok vam pisem ovo,toliko mi naviru slike,secam se svega, toliko jasno...kao da se sad nalazimu tom malom, skromnom toplom domu. Nekada je u tom domu od 15 metara kvadratnih spavalo i po osam osoba. Dolazili su mnogi, jer nikog nemaju u Beogradu, a dosli su da traze posao, da idu kod lekara, da kupe traktor....i svi su oni dosli kod nas. Tada smo mi spavali na podu,a svoje mesto ustupili gostima... Mnogo je takvih dana bilo. Bio je jedan tatin rodjak, koji je dosao na studije u Beograd. Bio je kod nas godinu dana,dok nije dobio sobu u studenskom domu.....o njemu cu vam pisati u nekoj sledecoj prici.

Ruke moje majke

Zbog njih svetovi postoje!
Žanju polja kad ožite,
Vežu rane kad osvoje,
Uvek nežne lekovite.

Nastavak sledi...

Hvala sto me pratite.

Hello dear friends. I hope you are all doing well. Here I continue my life story. I wrote to you that I have a younger sister, that we were born and raised in a working class family. When my parents from the village came to the big city, many relatives, godparents, neighbors remembered them. Whoever had a job in Belgrade knocked on our door. We always lived very modestly in one room ... In one corner a cupboard..Remember that green cupboard? I think these older generations have seen it at least somewhere. It was a set of kitchens for us. There were all the dishes, spices, flour, potatoes ... There was a wooden table next to it, Dad made it from some boards. Mom always found a nice kitchen towel to cover it, to beautify the room. Next to him was a spore. Across the road, on the other wall, two couches. There was always bedding on the couch ... beautiful, white, clean, starched. Behind the door is a double wardrobe, in the middle of the room a hundred and four wooden chairs without backs .... Do you know what I'm aiming for? Carpet is a traditional hand-woven woolen fabric that can be used as a rug, bed cover or sofa. It was woven by my grandmother and given to my mother when she set out into the white world ..... As I write this to you, so many pictures come to me, I remember everything, so clearly ... as if we are now in that small, modest warm home. Eight people used to sleep in that 15-square-meter home. Many people came, because they don't have anyone in Belgrade, and they came to look for a job, to go to the doctor, to buy a tractor ... and they all came to us. Then we slept on the floor, and gave our place to the guests ... There were many such days. There was one of my father's relatives, who came to study in Belgrade. He was with us for a year, until he got a room in a dormitory ..... I will write about him in a future story.

My mother's hands

Because of them, worlds exist!

They reap the fields when they come to life,

They bind the wounds when they win,

Always gentle medicines.


To be continued...

Thanks for following me.

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Avatar for tmile
Written by   44
4 months ago
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Comments

Ako me posmatras kao druga zbog toga sto imam - bolje mi nemoj biti drug. Ako me volis zbog mog materijalnog stanja - bolje me nemoj voleti. Neko ima vise,a neko manje. Mi smo svi ljudi od krvi i mesa, ne bitno koje smo boje koze, nacionalnosti, veroispovesti. Takav kredenac kakav ste opisali smo skoro prefarbali i sredili, sada krasi dnevnu sobu u selu <3

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4 months ago

Divno receno ,slazem s da ljud ikoji te posmatraju kroz materijalno, ne trebaju da budu u tvom zivotu.

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4 months ago

Rodjena sam u srednje imucnoj porodici, nikada glad I siromastvo nisam osetila. Znam puno ljudi koji su, slično Vama, imali teške živote. Nikada se nisam izdvajala I glumila neko "ludilo" da to što sam ja imucna znaci da treba da se druzim samo sa sebi slicnima. Nikada to nisam želela, ni volela. Naprotiv, uvek sam se druzila sa skromnijim ljudima I zahvaljujući tome sam i imala prilike da jedem poparu I da se slikam kraj takvog jednog zelenog kredenca :) Izvinite na preopsirnom komentaru, tako mi doslo

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4 months ago

Vi ste vrlo divna osoba,jer ljude ne gledate po materijalnom

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4 months ago

Divno Branka, bas si opisala kako je bilo. Ja i ti to bas pamtimo tako.

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4 months ago

E, moja Gordana....to za nas decu nije bilo tesko. Nasi roditelji su se mucili. Mi to nismo ni osetili....

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4 months ago

Prelepo. Čekam nastavak. Svaka čast!

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4 months ago

Hvala Gogo,nisam ja neki pisac htela sam da pokusam...da prenesem svoja secanja,svoju emociju....mnogo je toga bilo..

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4 months ago

Imam ja u selu kod ujke, taj zeleni kredenac. Do skoro smo imali u podrumu, znam koje su stolice bez naslona, a imam i ja cilime rucno tkane.

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4 months ago

To je bio osnovni namestaj radnicke klase...nekada!

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4 months ago

This is so beautiful to read, I love reading life stories ,, keep writing your stories

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4 months ago

Thank you for the achievement. I will, writer ... my life is an unusual story intertwined with both beautiful and ugly.

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4 months ago