My grandmother, Ira and her dog.
The story written from my grandmother's name:
"It was October 1941, I remember, I went to the hill right near the river with my mother and her best friend who gong to the war as a nurse. I remember we were just looking at the river, at the forest and did not say a world. My mother's friend, a very nice Russian woman, Sveta, was in her middle forties, hugged me, and only said:"Ira, don't cry. We will win". It was was not even a tear in her bright blue eyes. Sometimes I see her round face, smooth cheeks, her smile, how she was looking in my eyes like searching for some answers. And many time after when I felt sad, I would say to myself first: "Don't cry, Ira". She left the village the next morning, leaving 3 children and old parents. Her husband was at the war too. I think almost at the end of the war her parents left the village with the children to live with relatives far away. My mother tried to find Sveta after the war, but I don't think she got the answer.
