This is not the story of one incident, rather a collective literary image. This did not happen, but I think it could very well have happened. Maria is a real accountant, accurate, collected and professional. Nastya is her daughter, 6 years old. It’s the end of December, the snow is falling like a wall, turning into mush underfoot. Masha takes her daughter to class. They are late because of traffic jams and the quarterly report...Nastya doesn’t want to go again. Mom again explains how important this is for the future, that there is a word “must”. Nastya trudges along because she knows that not going is impossible. And then, freezing for a second, he looks up at his mother and calmly asks: “Mom, why don’t you love me?” For a moment, it seemed to Masha as if someone had opened the door to her soul wide, and snow and a blizzard burst into her as uninvited guests. Then thoughts came. “Why, oh why? I do everything for her, to raise her to be a good person...” And Nastya is really growing up to be a good girl. Obedient, responsible, smart. She draws well, reads fluently, counts within a hundred - an achievement at her age! And Masha is sure that a brilliant future awaits Nastya, that with her determination and diligence she will achieve everything. Logic gives in... Masha understands that she needs to answer something, but nothing worthwhile comes to mind... - Why do you think so? - finally asks Masha. “I don’t know,” Nastya answers honestly, increasing her pace. She didn’t want to upset anyone, she doesn’t want any more questions, she already regrets with all her heart that she spoke out... But she’s a child - she had no idea that her mother would react like that to her words. - Yes, I don’t like it. If I didn’t love you, would I put so much effort into your upbringing? I’m trying so hard for you to grow up to be a good girl. I buy you new toys, when you ask, I spend a lot of time with you...I hug and kiss you...I...Masha continued. She was looking for logical arguments, she tried at all costs to convince her daughter of her love... But Nastya thought that she was listening to an old broken record. And mom was right, she loves her. Only Nastya had ice in her soul. She wanted her mother to be warm, alive, to allow her to skip class today, to hug her right now, to understand, so that with her next to her Nastya could be a small, spontaneous child, so that at least sometimes she could play around and be naughty, so that she could live in the present. , and not chase the future... She didn’t know how to express it, she didn’t even know that all this was possible, the words “Mom, why don’t you love me?” were the most accurate she was capable of at six years old. Masha fell silent. Her soul began to ache, like a frostbitten place hurts when you walk into a warm place. Suddenly I remembered, why did I remember now? - How he and his mother were walking in the yard. It was snowing exactly the same way, they made a snowman, then played snowballs, and then made “angels” in the snow, and then just rolled around in the snow and watched new flakes fly and fly from above. Masha buried herself in a tree and cried. Hot tears flowed uncontrollably down my cheeks. “Mommy, what’s wrong with you, mommy!” – Nastya no longer remembered that her mother could cry. “Don’t, mommy, forgive me, mommy, I won’t do this again, I’ll go to class, I will always obey you, always, just don’t cry, mommy,” a tearful Nastya babbled, hugging her mother’s knees.....Mom’s car left from life early and unexpectedly. Mom was warm and soft, like an Orenburg downy scarf. It was interesting to be with her, Masha felt truly happy with her. And then it all ended, like a dream overnight. Masha stayed with her father; it was hard, painful and bitter for him too. She looked like her mother, so her very appearance reminded dad of grief. He also said that now it would be difficult for him to raise her alone, and she should help him in everything. She loved her father and tried to please him with her successes. Over time, they became more and more, but she felt less and less. It was as if she had nailed down the door to her heart so that sadness and misfortune could never, ever again.