Olga Makhovskaya: Eight of March

Eight, a overturned sign of eternity, in Soviet times adorned holiday cards, whose life expectancy is only one day. Not forever we will celebrate this holiday, women's day? How many of them, female days a year, are they glee? Are we not masochists?

The eight at the end of winter has always reminded me of ahead of a snowy woman, to the foot of which they carry meager twigs of expensive flowers in winter. Most often, these are mimosa, similar to a bandage sprayed with a bad iodine, which is applied to female wounds and abrasions. When, with the advent of a tipsy prince, the last hope that this time would not be shy in the doorway will not be left in the doorway, because March 8 is exactly an extra day, the branch went to a jar of mayonnaise, which under others-non-holidays-circumstances were used as a container for tests.

Large vases for huge bouquets remained empty. Love and did not smell. Naked physiology. Yes, and the name of the Pimoz is orphan-by the prize.

We all lacked love and attention-not a public, this is more than that we have nowhere to retire-but the love of the closest people, primarily the parents, whom the public actively distracted by various joyful types of pseudo-activity, more reminiscent of public quitors: subbotniks, parades, meetings, competitions and songs, construction of the century, and the duty of the squads. Only youth, like fresh grass, was breaking through the pile of dead social structures, akin to the now abandoned factories, cultural houses, pioneer camps ...

The gaps were filled with love. And with songs - not always funny, however, even diagnostic ones: "There is no point in living alive, and the gingerbread, by the way, is always not enough for everyone!"

My first distribution after the university is at the Glukhovsky cotton plant, to the city of brides, the regional center of Ivanovo (and where are we not Ivanovo?). There were so few psychologists in the USSR, and there were so many weavers that the general director of the Lifshits plant, a “friend of Kobzon”, could not figure out what to do with me. Finally decided to put the teacher in a female hostel:

- They need to be taught how to live. And at the same time, you will drive the men.

- For what?! On the contrary, they need to be arrived, you have only “loners,” I showed competence and female solidarity. And at the same time, the civil position, as it seemed to me.

- Are you out of your mind?! And who will work? Poluga will go on maternity leave!

At this time, on TV, they showed a romantic tape "Lonely is provided with a hostel." I think "Kobzon's friends" still lead women's production. I did not pull the tasks of the teacher, the old lonely communists brought me up many times. The smartest was to go on maternity leave. Comrade Lifshits was correctly afraid.

Even bad poems are about emotions that a woman is always few

The hostel and personal life are poorly mounted. Just as psychology, the science of personal freedom, and collectivist morality, a set of ideas and beliefs about the importance of subordinating the personal public are mounted. The female world is far from politics, politics makes it meaningless, reducing all the wealth of experiences to strict rules and principles, ruining secrets and pulling out to the general display of feelings that initially hid from parents, and then from public organizations and curious neighbors. But even party activists, as we know from history, had a stormy secret personal life.

Women feel more acute orphan. It is in Europe or America due to current loneliness. Behind us - years of restlessness and longing for an ideal parent who should be near, but no, does not linger. The fathers of families from their girls are terribly far away. Orphans, weakness and meanness of personal attachments were exposed only now, when they were bet on them, hid like a stash, for a rainy day, but it turned out to be in vain. Living ties are not things, they cannot be postponed, they need to be careful, as for flowers. Neither Rome nor Crimea passed. Some fanfares.

A woman lives in detail and carefully. If she will take her personal, she will cry for a long time and inconsolably, and then again she will dream and sculpt a love story from fragments and scraps of words: "I blinded him from what was!"

Postcard www.8marta.nastupaet.ru/otkrytki

"We’ll come up with something!" - An important female refrain. The composition is a way of seeing a woman. It seems that no one has written about this yet. The man sees contour, connecting the farthest points of the universe with straight lines. It is important for a woman how many beautiful compositions, how many bows can be tied during the road. Will she be able to support harmony in a won man? The grown girls love to shy details, from kindergarten times, when magical, that is, fateful, “secrets”, were created from fragments of broken bottles and petals of the most beautiful colors.

Once my brother fell into intensive care. In unconsciousness, he remembered only verses.

Modern woman, modern woman!

The bustle is wrapped, but, as before, Divine!

Let a little tired, but, as before, beautiful!

Until the end, not subject to anyone!

Probably, every man has such a hidden repertoire from love lyrics. But not everyone will decide to present him, fearing ridicule. I saw the tired sisters cried, without leaving the patient. Maybe since school times they have not heard the initiations read not for the pattern, for the sake of an old ugly teacher, but for them, on the edge of life? A modest guy came out of a coma with a cherished romantic hero.

Even bad poems are about emotions that a woman is always few. Do not spare them, maybe then the eight on the postcard will seem not a rough keyhole, but a women's torso? She swinged coquettishly with her hip: "Yes, I'm like this, Marta ..."

Instantly changing, divinely beautiful combinations, as in a children's kaleidoscope, fill our imagination. That is why we so much appreciate poetry and bouquets - compositions from words and flowers.

Olga Makhovskaya - psychologist

Opinions expressed under the section may not reflect the point of view of the editorial office