⏱ ~3 min reading
On Saturday they were supposed to go to the park. A big one, with swans, carousels, and ice cream. Ulyana planned the week — what dress she would wear, what sandwich she would take with her. And in the morning her mother said:
— Daughter, it won't work today. The car won't start. Dad is repairing it. We'll try tomorrow.
Ulyana sat on a stool in the hallway. She started crying, not loudly, but quietly, with tears on her knees.
— And I waited so long.
Mom squatted down.
"Listen. We still have all day. The yard. The sun. We'll figure something out.".
— There's nothing in the yard.
“Really?” Mom smiled.
Ulyana put on her sneakers. They went out onto the porch. Mom took a notebook and a pencil from her pocket.
— Game. Find ten interesting things in the yard. Write them down.
— In our yard?
— Yes.
Ulyana shrugged. She stood at the entrance. She looked around. The yard was as usual - a sandbox, a bench, two chestnut trees, a lilac bush near the net.
She took a step. Another. She looked down.
Under his foot was a dry twig bent into a funny shape. Like a slingshot.
“This is it,” Ulyana said and wrote it down.
I looked at the chestnut tree. Between the roots was an anthill. Small, earthy, with movement inside. The ants were carrying pieces of grass.
— That's two.
Near the bench were three maple leaves, each one different. One was as big as a palm. The second was yellow around the edges. The third was half-eaten by some caterpillar—it had a hole like a window.
— That's three.
On the lilac bush there is a spider web. On the spider web there is a drop of dew, small as a glass bead. Inside the drop, Ulyana saw, the sky was reflected.
— Oh! Mom, look!
"Wow. That's four.".
Behind the bench was a cat. Gray, with a white sock. He was sleeping, his tail curled around him. Ulyana approached slowly. The cat woke up, opening only one eye. Then he stretched like a rubber band. He came over and rubbed against her knee.
"It's five. It's warm.".
Then Ulyana found a heart-shaped stone. That's six. A dandelion with a white head - she blew, the seeds scattered. Seven. A bird on a branch, which pecked with another for a bread crumb. Eight.
She forgot about the park. She forgot about the swans. She was already squatting by the anthill and watching them work.
— Ulyana, let's have dinner!
Mom shouted from the window.
Ulyana ran home. There were already eleven entries in her notebook—one more than necessary.
"Mom! I found eleven! Do you want me to show you?"
— I want to.
At lunch, Ulyana pointed out each item. Mom listened. Sometimes she smiled.
- And tomorrow to the park?
— Dad will fix it tomorrow, let's go.
Ulyana thought.
"Mom. Maybe I should go back to the yard first. I haven't found everything yet.".
Mom didn't say "no.".
The trip to the park was postponed to Sunday. On Saturday evening, Ulyana was sitting on a bench next to a gray cat - he was no longer afraid, he lay down at her feet. A pink cloud slowly crept across the sky. The chestnut tree rustled its leaves softly, softly.
The yard was the same. Only now it was visible.
💡 Joy is in simplicity.