We carried everything out of the room, there was only one table and a bucket of chalk.
And my mother, so young, beautiful, whitens and sings songs. And we listen spellbound. These were mainly romances.
Mom's voice is strong, sonorous. I especially liked the song about the love of a footman and the owner's daughter. Later I looked for this song, found "The Count's lackey", but the lyrics were not quite the same. As I understand it, there are many options).
Until now, I associate the smell of chalk with something good, new and pleasant.
Summer, mom whitens, my brother and I listen to the song and I cry furtively, so sorry for this lackey)
Now mom will finish and we will whitewash another room. The main thing is not to see tears, otherwise this song will not be sung anymore, and it is my favorite.

Now mom recalls:
- You ask me to sing a song, I ask, you won’t cry? You say no. I sing, and you frown, lower your eyes to the floor. Then you go out to another room and listen from there). Come out, come up:
- Mom, sing about the footman.
Sometimes I had to perform an encore 5 times in a row)

Memories from childhood are the warmest, right?