[I remembered the previous New Year Eve. We hung the weight clock on the wall and laid the festive table in my room where I had a radio set. "We" means Mother. Ira and me, and Uncle Borya's son Seryozha.
A gold coin is baked into the Vassilopita, the pie in honour of Saint Basil. One who finds it will be happy in the New Year!]
The happy coin rang on the floor, rolled and disappeared. I vainly went on hands and knees, I didn't manage to find the happiness! Suddenly Mother sank her head on arms and burst into tears without knowing why... Ira and Seryozha stood holding glasses of wine in their hands. The clock started striking midnight. New Year 1940 entered the room. Our mood was far from festive...
[The whole house" had no happiness, they kicked us away from home and the family broke. Mother? She left home only wearing a dressing-gown, fled to Romania light-handed and for twenty years had lived in a way one would never wished on one's enemy! I? I'll tell about me later but was in stock for me didn't look like happiness...
My brother? Badly wounded in France in 1940 he died from the effects of the wound. Seryozha? He was killed in battle near Odessa in the wartime. Ira? Soon after getting married she got sick with tuberculosis and died. Her death was very painful.]