And here comes my birthday - the same hopeless, gray and hopeless working day, like all the others. In the morning, having drunk a crappy tea without sugar, I stamp at work ...

7-04-2018, 14:00
Here we are all the same, if you think about it. How our inner self determines the value of gifts, hell knows.

And here comes my birthday - the same hopeless, gray and hopeless working day, like all the others. In the morning, having drunk a crappy tea without sugar, I stamp at work ...And here comes my birthday - the same hopeless, gray and hopeless working day, like all the others. In the morning, having drunk a crappy tea without sugar, I stamp at work ...

The year was probably 1996 or 1997. I worked at a furniture factory, plowed up to the midges in my eyes. The salary, and so not great, also detained for several months. I went to work and back for 7 stops on foot. Coupons in the canteen were canceled, and I ate once a day, returning in the evening from work.My wife was sitting at home with small ones.
The situation was just awful.Every single day I woke up with the only thought - what to buy food for the family, at least for today?
And here comes my birthday - the same hopeless, gray and hopeless working day, like all the others. In the morning, having drunk shoddy tea without sugar, I stamp on work. Sawing, drilling, accessories, assembly, packaging, loading - stupid routine for the production of dull mass-produced products, from dawn to dusk.
Going home, immersed in the usual then sad thoughts. There is no penny at home. The foreman, bitch, feeds him breakfast again, you can’t wait for a salary this week. Familiar bazaar bazaq, who promised to take to work on the market, with a daily fixed payment, disappeared from the ends and does not shine. I walk into the porch, climb the stairs, open the door to the apartment ...
I looked, my whole family - my wife, son, my younger sister and brother - lined up in the corridor opposite the front door and suddenly they were smiling at something. I remember, for sure, I have the same kind of day today, taking a step forward.
And suddenly, under their friendly cry, “Happy Birthday !!!”, a bright-golden, weightless something is pouring right from the sky, I have sparkled in my eyes from surprise.
For two days, replacing each other, with the active participation of a 3-year-old son, including confetti, they made confetti with a clerical puncher. From scraps of colored paper for school papers, from the children's collection of my sister's gold candy wrappers, from some old color magazines and postcards. They scored a full 5-liter bucket, hung it over the front door and brought a string to start a special effect. This I later asked.
And at that moment, when I realized that it was now, I unexpectedly took it for myself and wept, with shameful and completely improper tears, a 24-year-old man, who, as I thought, the devil himself was not a brother.
And this is one of the brightest gifts in my life, honestly.

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