Page 23 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

days gradually became longer, and on our street more old women came out of their
houses with small benches to sit at the porch and enjoy warm sunrays.

I loved our good and quiet street. It was neither very wide nor long; it was, as I
always called it, homely. Its one end set against the forest and the other – against an
enormous daisy field. Much later, to my huge regret, a railway station would be built
there. There were only twenty houses on our buried in verdure street. This was a
"blessed" time when there were no TV sets yet (we had the first one when I was nine)
and people simply socialized with each other.
We all knew each other very well and lived like one big and united family.
Somebody was loved very much and somebody less, but everybody knew that if there
was trouble, they would be helped anyway. It never happened that somebody
remained aloof, even the most "disagreeable" neighbours offered their help, although
later they, certainly, one way or another did not miss the slightest opportunity to
mention it now and then. By no means do I try to picture a romantic idyll of the place
and time in which I lived, or decrease the meaningfulness of any "progress". But I
will never forget how much warmer and purer people were when their souls and minds
were not burdened by the alien "fog of prosperity" and "mental dirt" of "progress".

There were twelve boys and four girls in my street then; we all were of different
age and had different interests. However, there was a time of day which we all loved
– the evening, when we gathered together and did something that allowed us all, both
teenagers and little children, to take part. Our poor parents found it quite difficult to
"drag" us home, tearing us away from some (always exciting, of course!) unfinished
story or game.
Even here, in a seemingly inoffensive corner of my life, I got the next bitter
lesson that it would be better, if I kept my strange "abilities" to myself. It turned out
that whatever game we played, I always knew its result beforehand, be that hide-and-
seek, riddles or just storytelling. And at first I was sincerely sure that it really should
be like this. I was glad, when I won (which happened almost always) and did not quite
understand why it caused my friends’ "deaf fury", although usually they treated me
very well. And one evening one of them finally "burst" and after my next success he
darkly said:

— We won’t want to play with you anymore until you stop showing your nasty
"tricks".
It was quite a shock for me, because I showed no "tricks" at all, never mind nasty
ones, and could not understand what he was talking about. I never thought about why
I could foreknow one or another answer; it was an absolutely normal thing for me and,
as it appeared, not quite normal for others. I came home grossly offended and closed
myself in my room to feel it keenly all by myself, but my grandmother had a sharp
flair for all my unsuccessful "adventures". She always knew, when something went
wrong, and it was absolutely useless to deny it.
She came to my room in just a minute and found me in tears. I never was a
weeper, but it was always hard for me to endure the bitter taste of unfair accusations,
especially when they came from the closest friends. In fact, only the closest friends

can indeed wound you, because their words get straight to your heart.

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