She will be my mother

At the end of the waiting room, an old woman warmed herself up. All in black. Dry. Hunched over. Nearby lies a bundle. There was no food in it - otherwise the old woman touched him at least once during the day.
Judging by the bulging corners of the nodule, it could be assumed that there was an icon there, but the tip of the spare scarf was visible, obviously, "to death." She had nothing else.
It's getting dark. People settled down for the night, fussed, arranging their suitcases so as to protect themselves from unkind passers-by.
And the old woman didn’t move. No, she didn’t sleep. Her eyes were open, but indifferent to everything that was happening around. Her little shoulders trembled unevenly, as if she were holding in her inner cry. She barely moved her fingers and lips, as if baptizing someone in secret prayer.
In her helplessness, she did not seek participation and attention, did not turn to anyone and did not leave her place. In the morning she sat in the same position, still silent and exhausted. Patient in her misery, she did not even lie on the back of the sofa.
By noon, not far from her was a young mother with two children of two and three years old. Children fussed, played, ate and looked at the old woman, trying to draw her into their game.
One of the kids went up to her and touched the floor of his black coat with his finger. Granny turned her head and looked so surprised, as if she had first seen this world. This touch brought her back to life, her eyes became warm and smiled, and her hand gently touched the linen hair.
The woman reached for the baby to wipe her nose and, noticing the old woman's expectant look turned to the door, asked her: “Mamo, who are you waiting for? Skill your train? ”
The old woman was taken by surprise. She hesitated, fussed, not knowing where to go, took a deep breath and seemed to whisper in herself a terrible answer: "Daughter, I don’t have a train!" And bent even lower.
A neighbor with the children realized that something was amiss here. She moved, sympathetically leaned toward her grandmother, hugged her, and asked her imploringly: “Mamo, tell me what’s wrong with you ?! Well, tell me! Tell me, Mom, ”she turned to the old woman again and again. - Mamo, do you want to eat? Take it! ”
And she handed her the boiled potato. And then, without asking her consent, she wrapped her in her fluffy shawl. The kid also handed her his bitten piece to her and muttered: "Eat, woman."
She hugged the child and pressed his piece to her lips. “Thank you, baby,” she moaned.
A lacrimal lump stood in her throat .... And suddenly something had ripened in her and such a powerful and powerful erupted that she threw her bitter misfortune into this huge station space: “Lord! Forgive him! ”She moaned and squeezed into a small lump, covering her face with her hands.
She lamented, lamented, swaying: "Son, son ... Dear ... The only ... Beloved ... My summer sun ... My restless little Vorobyshek. ... He brought it ... ... He left it."
She was silent for a moment and, crossing herself, said: “Lord! Have mercy on him a sinner. ” And she had no more strength to speak or cry from the despair that befell her.
“Kids, hold on to grandma,” the woman shouted and darted to the checkout counter.
"Kind people! Help! I need a ticket! Take away the old woman, ”she showed to the end of the hall.“ She will be my mother! ” I have a train now! ”
They went to the landing, and the whole station watched them with wet eyes. “Well, kids, I found my mother, and you are my grandmother,” she explained to the children, beaming with joy.
With one hand she held an old woman, and with the other a bag and children.
Looking at them, I silently prayed and thanked God for this meeting. It is strange, but most of those to whom I tell about this incident, which I witnessed several years ago at the railway station of the city of Kurgan, do not believe that this way, in a few minutes a person could make such an important decision for himself.

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