I've known Dagmara for a long time. Well, as far as I know, we're not close friends, just neighbors in the building and that's it.
I know she has four kids and no husband. Or rather, he was, but he disappeared about a year ago. Maybe he left, maybe they broke up amicably. People are adults, everything happens.
I am a second-time wife myself. One day I was coming home from work and saw a notice on the door saying that Dagmara needed clothes for her baby. She is ready to accept any help and is grateful in advance to those who respond to her request.
I have two children, a girl and a boy. Their wardrobe isn't very big, but they have some clothes that are too small: a few jackets, sweatpants, skirts, jumpsuits. The clothes are clean, some a bit worn, but they are fine to wear around the house. I put them all in two bags, bought some sweets and took them to a neighbor.
Right by the door, she started taking things out and looking at them, turning up her nose and grimacing: “What's that stain?” I felt so uncomfortable I could sink into the ground. I started frantically remembering where it could have come from. “My daughter must have fallen on the grass when we went to visit her grandmother in the country. Yes, it's true. I couldn't wash the grass stain out.
Dagmara had no intention of stopping. Now she was turning her son's jacket over and over in her hands:
-Why is there no zipper on the pocket?
-Gosh – I shrugged – the zippers always fly off. And I've never been a seamstress. If something needed stitching or repairing, I'd send it to the atelier. And when my son outgrew his jacket, I stopped spending money.
-You didn't want to spend money, but I have to, right?? Like I had millions. You know, Natalia, I live off child support, it's hard enough for me. And now I'm supposed to take my pennies to the atelier?
-Well, fix it yourself – the absurdity of the situation was starting to throw me off my stride. – Dagmara, I gave you things from the bottom of my heart and I'm not saying they're suitable for a parade. But I also have two children and I know how good it is to have a change of clothes. For example, for playing in the yard. You can get them dirty, rip them and you won't feel sorry for them.
Dagmara jumped at me with even more complaints, so I gathered the children's clothes into a bag, put it on the doorstep and went home.
I told my husband everything because I couldn't resist sharing my impressions of Dagmara's behavior.
-No, you're not rude, you're just naive – he said and calmly went about his business. By the way, Dagmara's children wore my son's and daughter's clothes for a very long time. I don't know, though, whether the jacket had a sewn-in pocket or not.
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