Learn to listen and hear your parents

- Mom, how much longer will you creak there, we want to sleep!
- Well, so you take and shift the floor, I still asked your father about it.

- Tomorrow I will shift, go to bed already, I have to work in the morning.

Morning.

- Son, do you remember what you promised?

- We don’t have any boards, I’ll call Nikita tomorrow, and we’ll go to the city in his car.

Tomorrow.

- Mom, I'm fishing, come on later.

A week has passed.

- Son, I bought boards, they are in the barn, please do the floor.

- I bought boards ?! Did you hire loaders ?! And I guess I still gave it for delivery ?!

- But what's the difference, the main thing ...

“I told you so!” Nikita and I will go to the city and transport everything ourselves!

Quite an old age, the brains dried up ... - he muttered under his breath, defiantly slamming the front door behind him and going out into the street.

Two years have passed.

- Mom, why are you creaking everything there! Wake up the child, go to bed go to bed!

- ...

Five years later, the mother died.

The notary invited her son and his family to him in order to give them a will. No one really expected the golden mountains or overseas property. Mother lived modestly all her life. The husband built the house during his lifetime, and, apart from cattle and farming, they didn’t have much income.

The notary took out from his desk a file in which an official document was languishing, indicating that the house and land were inherited by the son and his family, and at the end it was written by hand, "Son, please have crossed the floor."

He looked at the scribbles, and as a sign of love and respect for his own mother, he promised to fulfill her last request.

Twenty years have passed.

“My dear, of course, I am glad that we live with your parents, but you may overdo the floor, otherwise this creak does not allow me to sleep normally at night.”

- Dad, do we have boards?

- Yes, your grandmother brought them a hundred years ago and put them in the attic.

The boards have not gone away, they are still gathering dust in the old attic, waiting for their time - the hour when they finally become the floor, part of the house, and this hour has come. The son and father took the tool out of the barn and began to slowly tear off the old tree, which was worn out when the rusted nails crawled out.

- Wow! Look at that! - the son took out an old, half-rotten bag from the underground.

A minute later, the intrigued family in full force, was already standing near the find.

The old zipper easily succumbed and, opening, the bag showed its treasures. Inside were bundles of Soviet banknotes, the largest denominations. Father, drenched in cold sweat, did not believe his eyes.

The son shook the leftovers on the floor and at the last moment a note fell out of the bag.

Father recognized his mother’s scribbles and read aloud:

- Son, my brother died two years ago, he bequeathed his house and apartment to me, I sold them, and I transfer the proceeds to you and your children. I'm glad you finally decided to shift the old floor. Now this is not necessary, you can move and stand on your feet, with love, Mom.

Father held the note in his hand and reread it again and again. Nearby lay old rotten boards and packs of useless notes. There was a nasty creak in his soul.

From the Internet.