⏱ ~5 min reading
Olesya had a new backpack. Not the one she had as a child — a small one with a bunny, for kindergarten. But a real one. A school one. Big, blue, with a white flamingo on the side and three pockets — one small, two large.
It was the first day. The first day of school. The first of September.
Olesya woke up at six, even though her mother hadn't woken her up yet. She jumped out of bed herself, ran to the mirror and looked at herself. In a white blouse. With bows in her pigtails. With a red skirt. She was a real first-grader. No doubt about it.
Mom braided her hair, placed a plate of pancakes and a glass of cocoa in front of her. Olesya ate quickly — not from hunger, but from excitement.
Then — a backpack. Olesya put it on. And froze.
He was heavy.
Very heavy. Inside was a math textbook, the ABCs, two notebooks, a pencil case with pencils and pens, an eraser, a ruler, a bottle of water, and a bag of cookies that my mother had put away «for recess.» All of this weighed… well, a lot.
“Mom, it’s heavy,” Olesya complained.
Mom sat down next to me and adjusted the straps.
"It will get easier every day," she said. "It's always a little hard at first. It's called 'habit.' Then you won't even notice.".
Olesya nodded seriously. She was a courageous girl.
She and her mother left. But then her mother stayed at the gate of the yard — the school was close, three blocks away, and Olesya wanted to walk there on her own. Like an adult. Like a real first-grader.
She was walking along the path. The backpack was pressing on her shoulders. The straps were a little tight. Olesya rearranged them — adjusted them with her left hand, then her right. It felt a little better.
The road led past a playground with swings. Past a hazel tree on which two magpies were sitting. Past an old bench with a hemp back.
And then she saw the boy.
He was sitting right on the sidewalk, next to his big orange backpack. His head was down. Both hands were on his knees. Olesya came closer.
The boy was crying.
She felt sorry for him. She stopped.
“What happened?” Olesya asked.
The boy raised his face. Tears glistened on his cheeks. He had brown eyes, like her cat Murik, and a little red hair.
"The lace is untied," he muttered. "And my hands are busy.".
Olesya looked. And indeed, the boy had a sandwich wrapped in parchment in one hand, and a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums for the teacher in the other. He couldn't tie the shoelace.
And the shoelace dragged behind the boot like a wet thread. If it caught, it would fall off.
“Do you want me to help?” Olesya asked.
The boy nodded quickly.
Olesya carefully placed her heavy backpack on the sidewalk. It felt lighter. Then she knelt down on her knee — like her mother did when she tied her boots. She took the ends of the boy's shoelace and began to tie them.
"I'll tie it with a double knot," she said seriously. "It won't come undone.".
The boy nodded. He was no longer crying—he was just breathing deeply, out of fear that had not yet disappeared.
Olesya made a loop. She put a second one in it. She tightened it. She checked - no, it wouldn't come undone. She made another such knot on top.
— Done!
The boy smiled. The corners of his lips curved upwards.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Olesya got up, picked up her backpack. It was hard again. But for some reason, it was easier than before.
“What is your name?” she asked.
— Mykhailik. And you?
— Olesya.
They looked at each other.
"Do you want to walk to school together?" Olesya suggested. "You have a big backpack too.".
Mykhailik was delighted. He nodded so many times that his ears turned red.
They walked together. On the way, they laughed at the fact that they both had the same heavy backpacks — Mykhailik also had a textbook, the ABC, notebooks, and a pencil case. They showed each other their notebooks — Olesya with a flamingo, Mykhailik with a rocket. Olesya told them that she had a cat. Mykhailik said that he had a dog named Bartosz.
When they reached school, the backpacks didn't seem so heavy anymore. Either their shoulders got used to it. Or their hearts felt lighter — and that was passed on to their shoulders.
In the classroom they sat next to each other. The teacher, Olena Petrovna, in a white coat with flowers, sat Mykhailik and Olesya at the same desk. She had a beautiful voice, like a bell.
During the first break, Mykhailik unwrapped his sandwich, broke off half and handed it to Olesya. Olesya took an apple out of her backpack, cut it into two halves with the help of the teacher, and gave one to Mykhailik.
So Olesya found her first school friendship.
Her shoulders still hurt at the end of the day. But when she and Mykhailik were walking home—my mom met Olesya on the corner, Mykhailik's dad was waiting for her at the kiosk—Olesya realized something important.
The backpacks didn't get lighter, but my heart felt warmer.
Because when you walk together, any burden is lighter. Olesya remembered this for the rest of her life.
✨ When you walk together, any burden is lighter ✨