Taken from life. “I always knew that my mother never overcomes any details”: she retired and spy on his neighbors

My mother, a teacher by calling, spent her whole life in school walls, where vigilance and control were her inseparable companions. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/4e64e7/620x0/1/0/2025/02/24/iur9w3k8ea5errl3b3c3ciuo2mo2q7svgbypmilvlvlvl.jpg" Alt = "Mama, source: pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (139,130,120,1)" > < p > After retiring, I was hoping that she would finally be able to breathe full breast and enjoy a well -deserved rest. However, the reality turned out to be different.

< p > I lived near her and visited her regularly — On Wednesdays and Fridays. When I crossed the PR 'Oacute; g of her apartments, I always felt the same smell of tea with lemon and a light note of vanilla rising in the air. Mom sat at the table, and I next to her, ready for the next dose of her observations about the neighbors. < p > At the beginning I treated them as innocent jokes:

< p >-see, Kasia! The neighbor is garbage about si & oacute; dmej in the morning! She probably bought something unnecessary again! & ndash; M & Oacute; was with a smile. I laughed with her then; It seemed nonsense to me. But after a few weeks, these banal observations turned into obsession.

< P >Mom began to follow the neighbor & oacute; in the viewfinder, as if she were a detective assigned to our staircase. < p > – I noticed yesterday – one day she started while brewing tea – that the dog from the fourth apartment did not go for a walk. – I was surprised by & MDASH; who, in their right mind, would worry about a dog ? pr & oacute; I caused her to calm her:

-mamo, maybe just the owners have bad days.

< p > However, my words bounced like ping -pong balls from the wall.

< P >-KNOWLY WITH THEY! & ndash; Mom insisted on more and more nervously.

< p > I quickly realized that our conversations began to resemble dialogues from absurd art — I tried to keep the remains of common sense, and she avoided him like fire. With each meeting, our relationship became tense like a guitar string before the rock concert.

< P >One evening, my mother confessed to me something even strange:

< p > -Kasia! A man with a beard entered the apartment of the same neighbor & oacute; in bags and did not leave. – It poured a witch to the bitterness of my nerve & oacute; How she could think so irrationally ? my nervousness exploded:

< p > -mamo! What if they just rent their apartment ? what ambiguous suspicions!

< p > At this point, my mother's look became cold as L & oacute; d on the lake in December:

< p >–I are so stupid! You don't understand anything!

< p > I decided to act — Time to end this spiral of madness. I took my mother to art classes; It was a step towards normality in our lives full of gossip and surveillance. At first, she protested loudly like a child forced to eat vegetables, but I managed to get her to the first watercolor painting lesson. < p > When we entered an artistic studio full of paints and joy you tw & oacute; I noticed a flash of curiosity in my mother's eyes; Maybe there is still hope ? In a few weeks, observations of the neighbor & oacute; in the places of colorful paintings flower & oacute; in and landscapes dotted with the sun.

< p > Each Wednesday tea has now become an excuse to talk about their artistic progress instead of reports about a dog or a man with a beard. Sometimes we remembered R & oacute; bring our neighbors & in & mdash; But only as a background for our daily & oacute; w.

< P >< Strong > look: Joanna Koroniewska won the moving confession. “I read about myself in the media that I am disgusting”

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