My family has always been strong and friendly. Grandparents lived with us, she helped her mother to raise me.
My dad chose a career naval officer. He served on a submarine and six months left in sea voyages. Mom cried at night in the pillow, quietly sobbing, so as not to upset me and grandmother. She was a doctor, so, too, was often absent on duty in the hospital or served patients at home.
Grandpa evenings planted me on his knees and was always told the same tale - about sea adventures and heroic exploits of my dad. About how he's on his submarine sneak up to the enemy ship and released the torpedo right on target. And then the submarine, like a huge underwater whale went into bottomless depths. I fell asleep, lulled by the waves, and fought bravely together with the Pope against the enemy, military squadrons.
But when dad returned from distant campaigns, our whole house was shaking. First in the door appeared large suitcases on wheels. After the Pope himself in a chic, black coat with gold anchors on the cuffs of the sleeves and white cap with "crab" (as the sailors call the cockade). He immediately picked up on the hands of the mother and whirled her around the room, and I was jumping around and clapping their hands. Then dad threw me to the ceiling and, with a chuckle, rubbing prickly cheeks on my happy face. The grandparents he held tightly to himself, and my mother and hugged him from the other side, and all stood for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the long-awaited arms.
Evening tea was delayed until midnight. I never wanted to leave early and all fell asleep at the table. Dad carried me into the nursery and put in the bed.
I grew up a happy child, because I knew that my daddy will always protect me, my family and our country!