A New Year like this

A week ago I met with Vitya, we drank tea and he gave me money.
It just so happens that every time he makes the donation in person. We run into each other in the city and casually learn something about one another. He’s a handsome young man who’s been living abroad for a long time and who sometimes visits Russia. He’s got a successful career and a brainy wife.
In the course of our conversation, I accidentally said:
–I was planning to give it all up and stop going to the Donbass.
He sharply replied:
–Please, don’t!
And I was taken aback.
Just as I was taken aback on the New Year’s Eve.


About 10 minutes before midnight my phone began to vibrate and the text messages started coming. I didn’t check because it was almost the New Year and one had to get the glasses ready.
Though I’m lying–we were sitting outside by a fire, and we barely dragged ourselves back into the apartment crowded by tons of food.
And when after the midnight chimes everyone started working their phones, I discovered the message was from Sberbank.
It wasn’t a spam greeting.
It was an announcement of money transfer for humanitarian aid.
Half an hour later I received several messages from paypal–the same thing.
People were making aid donations. On New Year’s Eve.
I was trying to imagine these people who, in the midst of New Year’s Eve chaos, are logging into online banks and, for some reason, decide to send money precisely at that moment. They were probably surrounded by children, relatives, so they had to go to separate rooms to do it. They are being summoned, but they just wave their hands. “Just a second!” Or perhaps these are lonely people who greeted the New Year with TV or internet. Or perhaps they live in a different time zone so their New Year has already come and it’s the dead of night there. Or the New Year is still half a day away, and they are at the store trying to find the right ingredients for the salad, or they are thinking about what to war.

I just now thought about little Kolya whose mom stole my camera.
The boy who is suffering from suppurating meningitis.
This story struck me like a sledgehammer and crushed me.
But my Moscow Zhenya told me this:
–You know, Dunya, I think that if that mom hadn’t stolen your camera, the boy would not have been brought to Moscow and he’d have no chance to live.
And it’s not just that everyone started trying to help him.
Yes, many people were engaged in this, including Lugansk Zhenya, Liza Glinka who’s now gone, whom I bombarded with letters. That’s all quite clear.
I think it’s simply that when many people send their thoughts and wishes toward one point, something starts to happen.
Inert lumps of earth come to life and begin to move.

Thank you.

 


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