New Year ... New Year in my life a special holiday, bright, bright, kind, with the hope for the best next year, memorable. I do not know, I'm somehow not accustomed to my birthday, but over the years it has become a reminder of the past years, life. The new year is still the most anticipated-colorful holiday. I was accustomed to this holiday by parents, it was with them that I first plunged into the sacraments of this holiday, in his tradition, for the first time I felt all his warmth, color, extravaganza of colors, light.
Every year on this day we gathered for our aunt. Aunt Katya was the sister of our grandmother. Even in her youth she worked as an accountant on the collective farm and naturally attributed all the relatives of the workday. I myself vaguely imagine what kind of currency this was at that distant Soviet time, but then the work was paid with workdays, collective-farm grain which was then carried to the mill and grinded to flour, and this was already in that hungry time wealth. It attributed it to all, relatives, neighbors, to someone more, to someone less, that someone offended and denounced. The aunt was naturally planted, and when she was released, it turned out that she was not wanted to take to work in the village, "the enemy of the people, so she did not die of hunger and went to the city.
There she was rejoicing, until a starving, dirty woman was met by an officer. He then brought her to his house, was not afraid of stigma, took a housekeeper to his house, and when he left for his homeland, to Leningrad, knocked out her room in the hostel, helped with work at the meat-packing plant. Over the years, my aunt has grown acquainted with, got her own one-room apartment in the center of the city, and then married her uncle Vanya, a little old man, which he then seemed to us children, a chauffeur at a bakery. These kind, nice people every year hosted all the relatives with their aunt in the party, with their children, the second half.
So it was led most likely because the aunt herself could afford a real banquet with all its attributes, olivye with scarce green peas, smoked sausages, huge pieces of meat and of course the famous "Soviet Champagne ,,! For us, the children were prepared mountains of real chocolates. Neither we nor our relatives had a TV at that time, but with Aunt Katya we could snort at the sight of a little "Spring," by which we listened enthusiastically to the performance of Leonid Ilyich, the beloved and irremovable. After a sufficient number of toasts, folk songs began to sing, and after an improvised concert they went to the Christmas tree without fail.
I do not know what happened to the weather, but then every New Year must be snowed, it's big, it's crocheted. And under the Christmas tree it was fun, people really had fun, sang, danced. A lot of walking up, must be photographed. To us children were bought with crackers, Bengal lights and we were like crazy chasing each other, firing at confetti of parents. Tired, flushed red, happy, everyone returned back to Aunt Katya, to her warm, cozy, odnushku, and continued the celebration. The celebration ended at seven o'clock in the morning, Aunt Katya called out a taxi to all of us, kicked us in a dozen or even a quarter for the children, suppressing the compulsory objections of the parents, they themselves piled on a bag of meat and butter and literally made us sit in a taxi. At parting, my aunt pushed a taxi driver into her hand and punished us to the house.
Given the then cost of traveling to the ruble with pennies, it was a royal gesture. At home, my brother and I hid the money in a secluded place and went to bed with a child's dream, so that the morning came quickly so that we could go to the city and choose a gift. So in dreams happy and showered!