If childhood became a child, then it would certainly remain living in the old house, picking strawberries in the forest during the day, and looking at the stars and drinking warm milk at night.

You are again a child who did not yet know your future: an oppressive husband, a divorce, a financial hole and disappointment, which appeared only when you looked back at the path you had taken, thorny and caustic. Seeing the native hills and wooden houses of the native village, everything seemed to take on meaning again. And if the problems did not disappear, they faded into the background.

Your grandmother greeted you with a joyful smile and tears of happiness with her tender (just as always) brown eyes.

She told you about the affairs in the village, the daily routine and news from the neighbors. Someone died tragically, and someone got married. A gray-haired woman with a sly smile told you about her neighbor’s son, whom you didn’t remember at all. A certain Carlos lived here all his life and did not complain. The old woman praised him, told him only positive things, and that’s why it seemed to you that this guy could involve you in a new life even more.

“Auntie, do you have any salt and...” — a man’s voice came from behind a low wooden fence while you were digging up the beds. The sun was beating down mercilessly, and you continually brushed beads of sweat from your forehead. Probably, the unknown person confused you with your grandmother... you turned around, squinting: the dark-haired man, who was piercing you with his gaze, smiled forcedly from hard work in his garden, immediately guessing who you were, — “We have guests in our village? I’m always glad to see new people. I'm Carlos. And you?.."