A bouquet for my mother...

It was March 8th. I had to choose a gift. The girl was the most beautiful not only in the university, but also in the city. I had been mentally giving her many gifts long before. But I was not satisfied. Finally, after several days without lunch, I bought the most beautiful, large bouquet in the flower shop at the expense of my stomach. Her smiling and mysterious beauty, which I saw before my eyes that day, was much stronger than my innate instinct - hunger.

The chosen flower seemed to charm everyone around with its beauty and freshness. Everyone's attention was on this bouquet.

I came home at dusk, and I locked the bouquet in the garage, thinking it was a safe place. Despite my mother’s repeated pleas to me to stay, saying that she would have guests soon, I insisted on leaving. The meeting was approaching, and I was very impatient. At that time, my mother would put a bouquet of jasmine and peppercorns in my pockets. Although they were always smelling of perfume, I emptied my pockets of them that day and replaced them with the latest perfume.

Then I went into the garage to get the flower named for the most beautiful girl in the world. As I slowly walked out of the garage, my mother called after me. When I turned around, she was holding my jacket in her hands. She looked at me dreamily and said, “Put on your jacket, it’s raining.” Perhaps she didn’t want to embarrass me, or maybe she deliberately made sure I didn’t see the bouquet. I said I wouldn't wear a jacket and hurried on my way. My mother kept looking behind me. I could see clearly without turning around from these fixed glances.

I hurried, panting, as if by the grace of God, after months and sleepless nights of writing letters and barely finding my way into his heart, the beauty was waiting for me. He was from the richest family in the city, and I was from a simple, middle-class family. This difference was not noticeable for now under the shadow of "blind love", but soon the lies I had fabricated to achieve it were destined to surface. In order not to show it for now, I would show myself luxuriously, and give him my most magnificent moments.

Finally, I was at the meeting place. The appointed time was passing, but there was no sign of the beauty. In return, the phone was turned off. And the rain was pouring down. An hour had passed, and I was waiting. Two hours. I waited until midnight. Finally, I gave up hope, threw the bouquet away in sorrow, and went home. My mother was waiting for me at home, waiting for me awake. That night, I went out in the rain, freezing, with a cold and a fever. My poor mother stayed up until the next morning.

I was in a terrible state. That night, I went out with a feeling of sadness, helplessness, and immense guilt. Thinking back, I had never given my mother flowers on March 8. Looking into her loving eyes, I vowed that next year, on the holiday and after that, I would definitely give my mother the most beautiful bouquet.

Time passed quickly. In an instant, March 8 came again. I bought the most luxurious, largest, and most beautiful bouquet from the flower shop. It was raining again. I put on the beautiful jacket that my mother wanted me to wear, but the pockets were empty, and no matter how much I tried, the pleasant aroma of a carnation and a peppercorn would not come out of them.

Unfortunately, I could not present these flowers, decorated with the inscription "My Mother", which many people looked at with admiration along the way... I placed them at the foot of her grave with a thousand and one sorrows...

A quote from the story: Don't think, mothers are immortal, mothers are eternal. It is necessary and difficult to understand. Perhaps the last one, today's vision.


Source: Xabar.uz Follow “Zamin” news on “Telegram”