I taught at Solovyanka for one term. For the new school year I was transferred to Aspen Woods. I was sorry to leave the children of Solovyanka, we had had time to become last friends, but I was glad of the transfer: it was good to be home again, back among my own people!
When I returned to Aspen Woods I met a childhood comrade, Tolya Kosmodemyansky. The same age as myself, he seemed much more grown-up. I had far less seriousness and worldly wisdom. Anatoly Petrovich had served in the Red Army for about a year and was now in charge of the Aspen Woods library and reading room.
It was in the cottage which housed the library that the dramatic circle gathered for its rehearsals. Young people of Aspen Woods and the surrounding villages, pupils and teachers were working on A. Ostrovsky's play Poverty Is No Sin. I played Lyubov Gordeyevna, Anatoly Petrovich was Lyubini Tortsov. He was our leader and producer. He used to explain things cheerfully and interestingly. II someone mixed or garbled his words, or suddenly began shouting his head off, rolling his eyes and waving his arms about, Anatoly Petrovich would mimic him so wittily, though without malice, that the unfortunate amateur would forever be cured of the desire to walk on stilts on the stage. His laughter was loud, merry and irrepressible — I have never met anyone with such a sincere and joyful laugh.
Soon Anatoly Petrovich and I were married, and I was taken into the Kosmodemyansky household. Anatoly Petrovich lived with his mother, Lydia Fyodorovna, and with his younger brother Fedya. His other brother, Alexei, served in the Red Army.
Anatoly Petrovich and I lived happily together. He was a quiet man, not lavish with tender words, but in his every glance and every action I felt his constant concern for me, and we understood each other at a word. We were overjoyed when we learnt that we were to have a child. "It will most certainly be a boy!" we decided and began considering a name for the lad and guessing about his future.
"You just think, though," Anatoly Petrovich would dream aloud, "how interesting it is to show a child fire for the first time, a star, a bird, to take him to the woods, to the river, and then to the sea, into the mountains… Just think, for the first time!"
And then he was born, our baby.
"Congratulations on a daughter, Lyubov Timofeyevna," said the old woman who was caring for me. "Here she is announcing herself."
The sound of crying rang clearly through the room. I stretched out my hands, and they showed me a tiny girl, with a small white face, dark hair and blue eyes. At that moment I forgot that I had ever dreamed of a son and was sure that I had always wanted and expected a girl, this very girl.
"Let's call her Zoya," said Anatoly Petrovich.
And I agreed.
It was September 13, 1923.
Next: My Daughter