L. Kosmodemyanskaya

The Story of Zoya and Shura


Our First Parting

A year passed. There was no flood in the spring, and the children seemed not a little disappointed when they learnt that they would not have to runaway into the hills. In their heart of hearts they had been hoping that the river would sweep away everything, while they, in a little boat or on foot, would make for the hills, would rush headlong towards the most impossible adventures.

The earth was green again, and flowers bloomed in the tall thick grass. In May I received a letter from my sister Olga and brother Sergei in Moscow.

"Come to Moscow," they wrote, "you can live with us for the time being, and then you can find work and a place to live. We miss you, we want to see you and shall keep on inviting you."

We, too, were longing to see our own parts and our own people again, and as soon as the school year was over we left Siberia. We decided to take the children to Aspen Woods to spend some time with Grandma and Grandad.

So again we saw the broad road, the fields sown with rye, the ravine on the edge of the village, the lonely willows in the truck gardens and the thick bushes of lilac, the old hollow birch and the shapely ash tree by my father's house. And as I looked at these scenes, so near and dear to me, I realized how much a year must mean in a child's life, for our old house, and the meadow in front of the windows, and the brook, and our friends and relations had all been forgotten, and they would have to get to know it all again.

"How they have grown!" Grandma kept on repeating affectionately. "Do you remember me, you Siberians?" "Yes, Granny," they answered uncertainly, trying nevertheless to keep closer to me.

Shura, however, soon found his feet: an hour or two after his arrival he was already playing in the street with a band of his old friends.

But Zoya did not lose her shyness so quickly, and kept following me about. Late that summer Anatoly Petrovich and I began to prepare for our journey to Moscow. "Without us?!" Zoya asked in despair, and her voice was full of dismay, surprise and reproach.

Our first separation grieved us all. But we had decided not to take the children to Moscow until we had arranged things there and found a flat. And so, for the first time in our lives, we had to part.


Next: A Year Later