I was born in the capital. My city is very pretty, very green and old. I really like my city. I am a construction engineer, just like my parents and my grandparents.
I would like to visit the whole world and learn many languages. As the saying goes: "You know many languages, you have many lives."
I want to tell a story from my childhood. All the children around the world are waiting for the new year, they are waiting for the Christmas party. Santa comes with gifts. In the same way I expected them. And almost every year he came. And because of my childish innocence, I could not imagine that my parents would arrange Santa´s visits with the help of a special art service. I was always afraid of his visit. For me this person was very big and important, a person of the magical and miraculous world. I was afraid to sit in the chair where he sat because I was afraid to be turned into ice.
One day, the house bell rang on the last day of December. My father told me to open it with a suspicious expression on his face. I opened it by throwing myself back. "Santa Claus came," I murmured to my brother with fear and admiration.
When we arrived in our room, Santa asked: "Do two brothers live here? I want to congratulate them on the New Year and give them the gifts, but before you have to tell me the verses you know and sing the songs that you know, I like to listen to singing children. When I sang the song, I was surprised by the behavior of my father, because on his part I felt a certain lacck of respect towards our guest.
My Dad, almost laughed and began to ask questions. They seemed strange questions to me, very frivolous. But Santa also had a strange behavior: he lost his confidence, he struggled with his laughter and was a little nervous.
My father, well seated on his couch, kept asking him, "How interesting, Santa Claus! Underneath his coat is a dress similar to the one our mother has! You have the same shoes like her! And finally, after an invitation to drink alcohol, Santa Claus could no longer contain his laughter and under his beard I saw my mother's face.
We all laughed, especially Santa Claus. What happened was that my parents were too late to order a Santa Claus for us and my mother decided to play it and changed clothes at our neighbors' house.
It's been a long time, I do not believe in Santa Claus anymore and my father is gone, but I will always remember my first loss. Loss of Santa Claus ... without pain and with laughter.