— Valya, this is the third time you’ve shown me a photo of your youngest grandson. But have you even once in the past month asked how I’m doing?
Valentina froze with her phone in hand. The screen showed a round-faced boy in a bright blue cap, smiling.
— Luda, what’s wrong? I’m just telling you stories! Am I not allowed to talk about my grandkids anymore?
— Of course you can. I’m not saying you can’t. But we’ve been sitting here for an hour, and not once have you asked if there’s anything new with me.
— So, what’s new with you? — Valentina shrugged. — You always say: house, garden, TV. Meanwhile, I have six grandchildren—I have to keep up with all of them!
Ludmila slowly set her cup down on the table.
— See? It doesn’t even cross your mind that something might be happening with me.
Valentina sighed, put her phone away in her purse, and began to gather her things.
— I didn’t expect you to react this way to my stories. Well, all right, maybe next time we’ll talk.
After her friend closed the gate behind her, Ludmila sat at the kitchen window for a long while. On the table, there was a plate of homemade cookies that Valentina hadn’t even touched.
Outside, neighbor Hryhoriy was working among the roses. When he saw Ludmila, he raised his hand and smiled.
She nodded back.
And for the first time, she thought that in the last half hour, this quiet man had paid her more attention than her best friend had all evening.
* * *
Ludmila had just turned sixty-one. She lived in a small house with a veranda, grapevines by the porch, and a garden where every year she promised herself to plant less, but each spring she somehow found space for everything.
Her only daughter, Maryna, had lived abroad for many years now. She had a good job, a husband, and lots of plans. She called every Sunday, asked about the house and garden, and sent photos from her travels.
— Mom, maybe you could come visit us for the winter?
— But who would look after the house here?
— You could always ask the neighbors to help.
— Maybe I’ll visit someday, dear. We’ll see.
Ludmila never wanted to seem intrusive. Her daughter had her own life, and she was truly happy for her. But her own life had become very predictable lately.
On Mondays, she did laundry. Tuesdays were for going to the market. On Wednesdays, she baked bread. Every Thursday, Valentina came to visit. They had been friends since school. They’d shared the same desk, gone to dances together, later helped each other with their kids.
They used to talk for hours, late into the night—discussing books, new dresses, recipes, and their dreams. They laughed so hard that they wiped away tears.
Now Valentina had three grown-up children and six grandchildren. Her phone rarely stopped ringing.
— Luda, can you believe it? My eldest granddaughter has started going to dance class!
— Luda, our Maksym recited a poem at the holiday recital!
— And the littlest one said the funniest thing yesterday—just listen!
Ludmila listened. She smiled, looked at the photos, and felt genuinely happy for the children she’d known since they were small. But she started to notice something odd: whenever she tried to share something about herself, her friend almost always managed to steer the conversation back to her grandkids.
One time, Ludmila wanted to tell her that she’d joined the library—and had even met an interesting woman there.
— Oh, by the way, — interrupted Valentyna, — my middle daughter loves to read too! I bought her some wonderful books!
And the conversation drifted back down that familiar road. Another time, Lyudmila mentioned that she was planning to repaint the veranda.
— That’s exactly right! But my daughter’s kids just painted all over her balcony. Can you imagine what a mess they made?
Lyudmila stopped talking. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she had started getting tired in advance of the Thursday visits. After all, Valentyna hadn’t done anything wrong. She just loved her family deeply.
So why did Lyudmila feel even lonelier after Valentyna’s visits?
* * *
Their neighbor Hryhoriy lived just over a low fence. He had moved to their street a few years ago. He was sixty-five. He used to work as a carpenter, but now he mostly liked to craft things for himself, tend his garden, and go fishing.
He lived alone. His grown-up son and his family lived in another region and only visited several times a year. He and Lyudmila had known each other for a long time, but mostly just chatted over the fence.
— Good morning, neighbor!
— Good morning to you too, Hryhoriy!
— They say it won’t rain today. You can hang out your laundry.
— I already did. If it gets wet, I’ll just hang it out again!
That was the whole conversation. Although over the past two years, Hryhoriy had started acting a bit differently. First, he planted roses along their shared fence. Lyudmila was surprised; before, he’d only ever grown onions and dill there.
By the following spring, more roses appeared. There were delicate pink ones, creamy shades, and deep red blooms.
— You’re getting into flowers now! — Lyudmila once joked.
— Why not? Is it odd for a man to grow roses?
— Not at all! They look beautiful.
Hryhoriy smiled and spent a long time tending to the leaves on the nearest rosebush. For some reason, all his new roses were planted just where they could be seen best from Lyudmila’s kitchen window.
She noticed this but didn’t think much of it. Lately, the neighbor had found all sorts of reasons to come over. Sometimes he brought her a few pears from his garden, or asked if she needed a latch fixed on her gate.
Sometimes he offered to help move a bag of soil. Lyudmila thanked him, shared some pastries, and got back to her chores.
She never realized how many times Hryhoriy had lingered by the gate, wanting to say something completely different.
* * *
The next morning, after that uncomfortable conversation with Valentyna, Lyudmila went outside a little earlier than usual. She didn’t really feel like doing much. She walked around the flowerbed, picked up a few fallen leaves, and straightened a pot of geraniums.
From over the fence, a familiar voice called out:
— Lyudmyla Petrovna, good morning! Could I borrow you for a minute?
Hryhoriy stood by the roses in his straw hat, holding pruning shears.
— Did something happen?
— Oh, no. I just wanted to ask… Do you like fishing?
Lyudmila laughed in surprise.
— Me? I’ve never even held a fishing rod in my life!
— That’s no problem. I have three. I’ll lend you one.
— Hryhoriy, are you serious?
— Absolutely. I’m heading to the pond tomorrow. It’s beautiful and quiet out there. There’s plenty of space to sit. We’ll bring a thermos, sandwiches. And the fish… Well, if they bite, great. If not — we’ll make do.
— But what would I do there?
— Whatever you’d like. You can go fishing. You can watch the ducks. Or we could just have a chat.
He paused for a moment and added:
— You know, I sometimes feel like talking too. But I’ve already discussed every possible topic with myself.
Lyudmila smiled.
— You’ve surprised me, Hryhoriy.
— Well, just think about it. I’ll be leaving at seven. If you want to come, just knock on the gate.
He turned back to his roses, while Lyudmila stood in the yard for a few more minutes. Fishing! She was sixty-one years old, and her neighbor was inviting her to go fishing.
What would people say? She even pictured Valentyna raising her eyebrows in surprise: “Lyuda, don’t you have enough to do at home?”
But then she wondered: why should she have to explain to anyone where she wants to go? That evening, Lyudmila got some comfortable pants, a light jacket, and her sneakers out of the closet.
She placed everything on a chair. Then put it all back. An hour later, she took them out again. And laughed at herself.
— What am I like! It’s as if I’m getting ready for a first date!
At these words she suddenly went quiet. But really, why not?
* * *
At seven in the morning, Hryhoriy was just loading his fishing rods into the car when he heard behind him:
— Did you bring a second cup for me?
He turned around. Lyudmila stood by the gate with a small basket.
— There are cheese pastries in here, — she explained. — I don’t know if the fish will eat them, but I know we will.
Hryhoriy grinned so wide that Lyudmila couldn’t help but laugh along.
— I’ve got a cup. And a fishing rod. Even packed a folding chair, — he replied.
On the way, they talked about ordinary things at first: the garden, the apple harvest, how poorly the carrots grew this year.
Then Hryhoriy started reminiscing about his youth—about fishing trips with his friends, and that one time he pulled out a lost shoe instead of a big carp.
Lyudmila laughed until tears came.
— And what did you do with it?
— I brought it home. I thought I’d show my wife how successful my fishing was. But she told me that next time it’d be better not to catch anything at all.
By the pond, they set up chairs under a willow tree. Hryhoriy showed her how to hold the fishing rod, how to cast the line, and how to spot when the float started to move. For the first half an hour, Lyudmila stared so intently at the water she barely blinked.
— Hryhoriy, what do I do if something bites?
— Just call me over.
— But what if you’re also catching a fish?
— Then I’ll just ask my fish to wait its turn.
She burst out laughing. Later, they sipped tea from a thermos and munched on pastries. Hryhoriy asked about Maryna, about Lyudmila’s work at the library, which she’d retired from a few years ago, and about her favorite books.
And he listened to her answers. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t try to turn the conversation back to himself. He wasn’t in a hurry to say something more interesting. When Lyudmila mentioned she’d always wanted to visit an old castle on a tour, he immediately asked:
— So why haven’t you gone yet?
— The right moment just never came up. It’s no fun going alone.
— Well, you don’t have to go alone.
She glanced at him. Hryhoriy calmly watched his fishing float, but the corners of his mouth were ever so slightly turned up. And suddenly Lyudmila felt different. She was curious. She was laughing. She was talking about herself. Someone was listening. And there was no rush anywhere.
* * *
Lyudmila caught her first fish closer to noon.
A little crucian carp, tugging at the float so playfully that at first she thought it was just the wind.
«Hryhoriy! I think something’s there!»
Her husband jumped up from his chair.
«Pull it up! Careful! Oh, that’s a real catch!»
The crucian was about the size of her palm. Lyudmyla looked at it with such delight, as if she’d caught a gigantic fish.
«That’s it,» she announced solemnly. «Now I’m a fisherman!»
«A real one at that!» Hryhoriy confirmed.
They let the little carp go back into the pond, and Hryhoriy took out his phone.
«Let me take your picture with the fishing rod. For the memories.»
Lyudmyla sat up straighter, fixed her hair, and smiled. When he showed her the photo, she examined it for a long time. In it was a woman in a light jacket, her hair a little tousled, eyes shining with happiness.
Lyudmyla couldn’t remember the last time she saw herself like that.
«That’s a lovely photo,» she said softly.
«Because you’re lovely,» Hryhoriy replied simply.
She blushed and looked away. No one had told her anything like that in a long time. They sat by the water a little longer.
And as they were packing up, Lyudmyla suddenly asked:
«Hryhoriy, why have you never invited me anywhere before?»
He paused to think for a moment.
«I meant to. More than once.»
«What stopped you?»
«I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to. You’re so independent. Everything in your life is in order, you know how to handle it all yourself. I didn’t want to impose.»
Lyudmyla slowly folded the napkins and put them in the basket.
«You know, Hryhoriy, sometimes a person does everything on their own not because they like it. But because there’s no one else to do it.»
He looked at her and nodded.
«I understand.»
This time, they didn’t add anything else. And the silence wasn’t at all like the silence in Lyudmyla’s empty kitchen.
* * *
After that Sunday, something started to change, quietly but noticeably. Hryhoriy began visiting more often. Sometimes he’d bring fresh veggies from the garden, sometimes he’d ask her to taste his homemade jam, sometimes he’d simply ask:
«Lyudmyla, shall we have some tea?»
They’d sit on the veranda, chatting and reminiscing about their youth. One day, Hryhoriy brought an old wooden box.
«This is for your flowers. I made it myself. You said there wasn’t enough space on the veranda.»
Lyudmyla ran her hand over the smooth wood.
«You remembered?»
«Of course I did! You told me about it.»
She didn’t reply. But that evening, she spent a long time moving her potted plants, trying out the new box by the window. The following Saturday, they went to the pond again.
Then again after that. One day, instead of fishing, they went to the fair in the neighboring town. Hryhoriy bought her a tiny ceramic bell for the veranda.
«So I’ll know when you’re making tea,» he joked.
Lyudmyla started preparing for his visits, too. She’d bake an apple pie, find an interesting book to discuss, or ask for his help choosing a color for new curtains.
And most importantly, she stopped counting down the hours until evening. She began to have plans. Small, everyday ones, but her own.
* * *
Valentyna noticed the changes after about a month. At first, Lyudmyla couldn’t see her on Thursday because she and Hryhoriy had planned to go buy seedlings.
The next week, she said she invited the neighbor for dinner. And a few days later, when Valentyna called on Saturday and suggested dropping by,
«Oh, Valya, today’s not possible. We’re heading out fishing.»
«Who’s ‘we’?»
«Me and Hryhoriy.»
«Which Hryhoriy?»
«My neighbor.»
There was a silence on the line.
«Lyuda, are you serious? Going fishing with your neighbor?»
«Why not?»
«It’s nothing… Just odd. You’ve never been interested in this before.»
«I wasn’t before. Now I’m enjoying it.»
Valentyna paused for a moment, then added:
«Well, it’s your call. I wanted to see you. I have so much to tell you!»
«You’ll tell me on Sunday, Valya. Or I’ll give you a call tonight.»
«But my grandkids are coming on Sunday.»
«All the better. Spend time with them.»
Lyudmyla said goodbye and hung up. For the first time in many years, she didn’t feel guilty for not changing her plans for her friend.
That evening, Valentyna sent her a message: «I see you don’t have time for your old friends anymore.»
Lyudmyla read it twice. She wanted to respond right away. Even typed a few sentences. Then she deleted them. Some things are better said face to face.
* * *
On Sunday, Valentyna came alone. She sat in her usual spot by the window, glanced at the new curtains, the wooden shelf with flowerpots, and the basket of apples.
«You’ve really fixed things up in here. Was it Hryhoriy who helped you?»
«Yes. He built the shelf.»
«I see you’re spending a lot of time together now.»
«Yes, Valya. I enjoy being with him.»
Her friend was quiet for a bit, then said:
«You’ve forgotten about me. At least when it was Thursdays we could meet up. Now it’s impossible to reach you.»
Lyudmyla set a cup of tea in front of her.
«Valya, do you remember what we talked about last time you were here?»
«Well… probably about the kids.»
«About your grandkids. Like always.»
«And what’s wrong with that?»
«Nothing. I like hearing about your family. But tell me one thing: when was the last time you asked how I’m doing here alone in my house? What I’m up to? What I want?»
Valentyna lowered her eyes.
«I just thought you’d tell me if something was up.»
«I tried. Remember, I wanted to tell you about the library? Right away you started talking about the books you bought your granddaughter.»
«I don’t remember…»
«And do you remember about the veranda? I asked your advice about paint, but you told a story about how your grandkids painted your daughter’s balcony.»
Valentyna stayed silent.
«I don’t want you to love your kids any less,» Lyudmyla continued. «And I don’t want you to stop talking about them. But I’m a person too, Valya. I have a life as well. Maybe it’s not as busy as yours.»
«Are you jealous?» Valentyna asked quietly.
Lyudmyla looked at her in surprise.
«No. I’m happy you have such a big family. But just because I don’t have grandkids, does it mean I only get to hear about other people’s?»
Her friend slowly traced the handle of her cup with a finger.
«I never thought about it that way.»
«See?»
Outside the window, Hryhoriy was watering the roses. When he saw the women, he waved cheerfully and went on his way. Valentyna watched him go.
«Is he a good man?»
Lyudmyla smiled.
«He’s good.»
«Have you known him long?»
«For years, we just greeted each other over the fence. We’ve only really gotten to know each other now.»
«And you really go fishing together?»
«Really.»
«And you actually catch fish?»
«I caught one crucian carp. Hryhoriy says that’s pretty good for a beginner.»
Valentina couldn’t hold back her laughter.
«Oh, Lyuda! Who could have guessed!»
Then the smile faded from her face.
«Listen… I guess lately I’ve only been talking about myself.»
«It happens.»
«You could’ve told me sooner.»
«I didn’t even realize at first why I was feeling upset.»
Valentina nodded. They kept sitting over their tea for a long while. For the first time in many months, her friend was asking Lyudmila about her trips, her plans, about Hryhoriy.
And Lyudmila shared everything. She was glad that this time Valentina didn’t hurry to interrupt her.
* * *
One evening, while Lyudmila and Hryhoriy were sitting out on the veranda, he suddenly asked:
«Do you know why I planted roses right outside your window?»
Lyudmila smiled.
«So I’d have something nice to look at?»
«That too.»
«And what else?»
Hryhoriy looked a little embarrassed.
«I noticed once that you love flowers. There’s always something blooming on your windowsill. So I thought: I’ll plant roses. Maybe you’ll notice. Maybe we’ll talk.»
«But Hryhoriy, we already said hello to each other every day!»
«We did. But I wanted you to stop by the fence for longer than just a minute.»
Lyudmila shook her head in surprise.
«So you spent two years growing roses just to talk to me?»
«Looks like it.»
«And you couldn’t just invite me over for some tea?»
«I couldn’t bring myself to do it.»
She burst out laughing.
«Wow! A grown man, and still shy!»
«Do you think people stop being embarrassed after sixty?»
Lyudmila fell silent. Hryhoriy looked at her seriously.
«I didn’t know if you even wanted my company. You’re always so busy, so confident. But I’ve wanted for a long time just to sit with you. Talk. Just to be together.»
He paused, then added:
«I’m glad you agreed to go fishing with me that time.»
Lyudmila reached out and gently covered his hand with hers.
«And I’m glad too, Hryhoriy.»
Outside the window, the grapevine leaves rustled quietly. Somewhere nearby, sparrows chirped.
They sat silently together. But now Lyudmila knew for sure: she didn’t need to think up conversation topics for someone to want to stay by her side.
* * *
In the fall, her daughter Maryna called and immediately noticed something was different about her mom.
«Mom, you sound so cheerful today! Did something good happen?»
«A lot of things, sweetheart.»
«Tell me all about it!»
Lyudmila paused for a moment, then said:
«I’ve started going fishing now.»
«You? Fishing?»
«Can you believe it!»
«With whom?»
«With my neighbor. Hryhoriy. Remember, I told you about him?»
Maryna laughed.
«Mom, you’re full of surprises! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?»
«Honestly, I didn’t even know things like this could happen.»
«Like what?»
Lyudmila glanced out the window. Hryhoriy was standing by the gate holding a small wooden box.
«That you can live for so many years next to a wonderful person and never notice,» she quietly replied.
After the call, Lyudmila went outside.
«What did you bring?»
«I have a gift for you.»
Hryhoriy opened the box. Inside was a brand new fishing rod.
«Wow!» Lyudmila laughed. «So now I have my own?»
«It’s yours. I thought you’d had enough of using mine.»
«Why do I need my own, if we always go together?»
He smiled.
«That’s what I’m hoping for.»
Lyudmila took the box and hugged it to her chest.
«Thank you, Hryhoriy.»
So, are we going on Saturday?
We’re going. But this time, I’m choosing the spot myself.
Deal.
And the pastries will have cherries in them.
What about cabbage ones?
Cabbage too, of course! We can’t do without those!
They both laughed. Out in the yard, roses were blooming by the fence—the same ones Hryhoriy had planted long ago, hoping to catch his neighbor’s eye. Now, every morning, Liudmyla opened her kitchen window not just to admire the flowers.
She knew that soon, a familiar straw hat would appear behind the fence, and she’d hear:
Good morning, Liudmyla! Is the tea ready yet?
And she would always reply:
It’s ready, Hryhoriy! Come in, I’ve been waiting for you!
Sometimes, true happiness doesn’t require big changes. All you need is someone nearby who not only shares their life but truly wants to be part of yours.
