⏱ ~4 min reading
It happened at the end of the third grade. The teacher Olga Mykhailivna brought a small pot to the classroom. In it was a small seedling with a few dark green leaves.
— Who wants to plant this rose bush near the school?
Katrusya immediately raised her hand. And her friend Daryna did too.
They sat at the same desk since first grade. They went to music school together. They were afraid of tests together. Together they shared half a chocolate bar between two people - each with their own half.
Olga Mikhailovna smiled:
— Then sit together.
After class, the teacher took them out into the schoolyard. In a free corner, near the sign with the words "School," a hole had already been dug. There was a shovel and a watering can.
— Hold the seedling, Daryna. Katrus, fill it with soil. Be careful with the roots. Now water it.
The girls did everything together. Daria held the thin stalk so carefully that it seemed like it might fall apart. Katrusya scooped up the soil with her hands and poured it around the roots. Then they watered it with water from a watering can. The soil was soaked, dark as chocolate.
The bush was very small. If someone were to ask, "Is this a stick with leaves?" they wouldn't immediately say "bush.".
“Will he survive?” asked Daria.
"If you take care of him, he'll survive," said Olga Mikhailovna.
The girls looked at each other.
— We will take care of it.
All May they came after school with a bottle of water. They watered. They checked to see if there was any damage — aphids or beetles. They cleared away the stones nearby. They told the bush how the day had gone — Daria in a whisper, and Katrusya out loud.
They also went to the register - twice a week. In August, the first bud appeared. Small, still green, but already with a hint of petals.
“He will!” Katrusya squeaked.
"Red? Or pink?"
— I don't know. Let's wait.
When fourth grade began, the bush bloomed. Two roses were a deep, dark pink. They smelled so good that adults passing by the school stopped.
When fifth grade began, the bush was already above my knees. It was blooming—ten roses at the same time.
When the sixth began, the bush was waist-high. Bees buzzed over it every week. Grandmothers walking with their grandchildren took pictures of it. Somehow someone wrapped a white thread around the bush—probably for good luck.
But the best thing was that the girls came every spring. Together. They sat next to each other on the curb and just watched. It was their day — without words. The bush was blooming — and they were happy.
When they finished ninth grade, Daria was transferring to another school—her mother had transferred her because she wanted specialized math. On the last day of school, the girls met near a bush.
Katrusya brought a small watering can.
"As a memento," she said. "You'll come and water.".
— But I'll be at a different school.
"And you come to our place. Here. To the bush.".
Daria took the watering can. She looked at the bush. At Katrusya.
— I will come. Only every May — definitely.
They hugged. Then they watered the bush together for the last time — and each went home.
Daryna kept this promise. Every May she came to the old school. Sometimes with Katrusya, sometimes alone. The bush bloomed. Sometimes there were many roses. Sometimes there were fewer. But it always bloomed.
When the girls were already seventeen, they were sitting on the curb near a bush. This bush was already tall - taller than them. Many roses had bloomed on it. Little kids from the first grade were playing nearby. One of them showed their parents:
— Look how beautiful it is.
Katrusya smiled and said to Darina quietly:
"Do you know why he's so handsome?"
"Because we put him in jail?"
"Because we planted him together. That's why.".
Daria nodded. She already knew: when you plant something together, it grows longer than you do. And lives as long as you remember it.
💡 What is planted together blooms longer.