KICK

You can't approach horses from behind. I didn't know this for many years. But then one day...

The story I'm about to tell took place at the very beginning of the twenty-first century. I want to warn you right away that I'll be presenting only the facts. Whether the events I'll be describing are closely related or not is up to the reader to decide. After all, there are probably people who believe in coincidences.

Zhenik—that's what Maya often called her nine-year-old son. He was known as Evgeniy, or simply Zhenya, at school, and mostly as Zhenik at home. In third grade, the boy didn't show any particular success in his school subjects. However, his sincere kindness and obedience distinguished the short-haired and not at all tall boy from his classmates.

Misfortune touched Zhenik's life unexpectedly. But then, is it ever expected? It's not for nothing that they say, "If I'd known where I'd fall, I'd have put some straw under me." And the boy fell, literally, next to a mare.

The old horse had faithfully served Zhenik's grandfather for many years. The boy had come to live in the village for the summer holidays. That cool morning, a mare was peacefully grazing in a meadow not far from his grandfather's clay hut. The boy didn't know that you shouldn't approach a horse from behind. The animal doesn't like this, and a reflex, ingrained in its enigmatic nature and developed over years, kicks in—it kicks in, regardless of whether it's a friend or a stranger approaching from behind. And so it happened. The unexpected blow knocked Zhenik unconscious. Fortunately, his grandfather's neighbor, who was hanging out laundry, saw it.

Ambulance, hospital, nurses, surgeons, IVs, medications, surgery, orderlies—these words, along with countless other medical terms, became the most frequently used in the vocabulary of thirty-two-year-old Maya, Zhenya's mother, after the mare's injury. She worked as a secretary at a school located in a military town tucked away in the pine forests of the Kyiv region. I was the school's director at the time. After her son's injury, Maya was immediately granted two weeks of unpaid leave. Then another two weeks. But during this entire time, Zhenya remained unconscious and underwent two brain surgeries. The doctors' opinion, which they made no effort to hide from the boy's mother after weeks of fighting for her child's life, was unequivocal: Zhenya would not survive. Perhaps Maya, who raised her child alone because she had no husband, sensed that her son didn't have much time left to endure earthly suffering.

It got to the point where I invited my deputies into the office to discuss exactly how much money to collect from the teachers to help Maya, who would likely have to bury her son. However, the secretary entered my office before the vice principals. Suddenly, just as Maya was opening the office door and I saw her, a thought flashed through my mind: "Stop! After all, tomorrow a bus leaves from the school with tourists and pilgrims, including both children and teachers, to the Pochayiv Lavra! It's a holy place! Why not suggest Maya go there, to the Miraculous Icon of the Mother of God?"

I decided to suggest it to her. Maya, without arguing but somehow indifferently, agreed to go to Pochayiv. Not even the faintest glimmer of hope for her son's recovery lit up her eyes. It was clear she sensed her child's doom.

A day later, Maya, who hadn't previously attended church often, found herself at the Pochayiv Lavra for the first time in her life, having arranged with her father and aunt to care for the child while she was away. The boy, who had never regained consciousness, lay in his room on an IV drip. Zhenik couldn't eat. He had been discharged from the hospital to die, as the doctors believed there was nothing they could do for him.

Maya's relatives advised her to take a scarf with her to the Holy Place and, if the priest permitted it, touch the Miraculous Icon of the Mother of God with it. Then, upon returning home, she could tie the scarf around Zhenik's head.

The priests in Pochayiv allowed the woman to carry out her plan, and late that evening, the headscarf was on Zhenik's head. Maya, having tied it around her child, went to the kitchen and suddenly, quite distinctly, heard behind her: "Mom, I'm hungry." The woman couldn't believe her ears and, turning around, looked at her son's face, where it seemed to her that a faint smile had appeared.

Maya's son had spoken!

From that day on, Zhenik's recovery began. No, it wasn't complete. The boy was granted disability status. His physical limitations manifested themselves in the fact that his speech and movements were significantly slower than before the injury. But he didn't die.

The doctors were amazed when they learned of Zhenik's recovery.

Much time has passed since the boy's miraculous recovery. After all, this story happened back in 2005. Zhenik grew up living in a village. He has always been drawn to animals, both large and small, and loves caring for them. His slow speech and movements don't make him a withdrawn person. On the contrary, many people who have just met him feel that he radiates a warm and kind light, inexplicably, from Zhenik.

But the boy's mother, Maya, a simple and kind woman, sadly no longer lives. A serious illness took her life.