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How to celebrate Easter if you have the flu

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How to celebrate Easter if you have the flu

Editor’s Note: We have completed the publication of the best stories sent to the contest “My Easter”. Winners will be announced in our social networks on May 6. Thanks to all the participants!

On the first conscious in my life (fasting! I went to services! On Palm Sunday they allowed me to help at the children's liturgy !!!) Easter I set up a thousand delightful neophyte plans: this is how I get on a bus to my native Feodorovsky Cathedral, how I look through an hour out the window, thinking about the upcoming great joy, as I jump out on Mirgorodskaya Street – and hello, the long-awaited all-night service! Hello, dear, beautiful, unfamiliar and familiar everyone! And we will perk up with one spirit, we will ring, laugh and sing – because "our donkey is a cap and a cap to meet my death and yours." Pleasant thoughts were swarming in my head: I would definitely congratulate my mother and godmother. And everyone else too. We ought to choose a cute Easter cake … By the way, I also haven’t tried curd Easter yet …

… On Saturday, I woke up with a temperature of thirty-nine degrees of honor. Ivanshmelevsky dreams changed to more mundane ones: now there would be no medicine and would not plop off from dizziness, and then something else could be done. Ill champion (in a sudden for April plus twenty) champion, I looked offended at the ceiling and stared at the space. I felt like a third grader, carefully preparing for the New Year tree and, as a result, left at home for some kind of fault. I even had an incredibly beautiful milk lace handkerchief ready! What now – to crawl in it to the teapot? … Boiling water indignantly boiled. I was in solidarity with him.

Where, where is my Easter ?! Will you really have to miss everything? What now – all expectations are in vain? Perhaps it’s my fault – ruined my own holiday? The flow of accusatory speech was interrupted only by a new temperature jump. Saturday night and all Sunday I lay in a semi-unconscious state. There were no temples, no candles, or puffy cakes in colored packaging – only vague snippets of street affairs and a cough through a cast-iron hat of pain that did not know the word "day off." When I woke up at five in the morning on Monday, I flipped through the Facebook contact tape, made sure that all the services had completed successfully, and closed the social networks, resigned to reality:

Everything seems to have happened without me.

On the same Monday, holding on to the wall, as befits in such a situation, I reached the window and was surprised by all my strengths, which remained surprisingly: but in St. Petersburg, it turns out, spring! Three days ago, our bald lawn was winking at the hatching grasses with might and main, and the family of domestic felines, hardly familiar with the basics of botany, was studying crocuses that had broken through the darkness and the Vasileostrovsky windshield. Morning sunshine settled on my sniffing nose. I solemnly fell out of bed, welcoming a new day, and then toppled over on the bed further, because the flu is a serious thing, and there is nothing to fuss about.

But it became absolutely clear to me that nothing terrible would happen if I got a Easter cake next year, and in Feodorovsky they would not take offense at me: they know that Easter, if you really wait for it, is everywhere. As Father Savva Mazhuko well said, it is inevitable: do you remember all aspects of dogmatic theology or not. She comes to the sick and working people, to those who do not have the strength and ability to get to the temple, to those who are on duty for days or lead Moscow-Washington planes.

Easter – now and with everyone, in the entrance, on the street and in the subway, Easter, “experienced” Christians and sneezing losers like me are happy. So, let’s go and resurrect everything together: those who came in the first and third hours, holding the fist in denarii, restrained and careless – and no one else will complain of poverty, sin and death, because today the common Kingdom is open and forever hell is deposed, buzzing with its bound sting.

And all this will happen both to me and to you.

Even if I or you get sick.

Elizaveta Trofimova

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