Yes, that's right. I remember the happiness most clearly when I was a child and I went with my father to pick plums in my grandparents' garden in the village, not knowing then that this was true joy. Shaburov's article made me think of my 10-year-old daughter - what will she remember years from now from our ordinary days?
It was like that with us too: I remember how my little sons ran around the garden for strawberries, and I just cursed that they were trampling on the beds. And now I remember and think - this is happiness, and I didn’t notice it then. Shaburov is right, you only understand in hindsight.
My daughter used to run through our little backyard in Boston chasing the neighbor's cat, and I'd fuss about the muddy shoes on the steps. Reading Shaburov made me smile — those are the exact moments I catch myself remembering as pure happiness now, years later. Funny how it works.
Same here in Belgrade. I remember how as a boy I was jumping on my grandfather's plum tree in Ritopek and peeling the bark from the branches, and my grandmother scolded me that I would break the tree. It didn't occur to me at the time that it was something special, but now it's the first image that comes to mind when I think of happiness. Shaburov is right, you only remember later.
The same here in Podgorica. When I was little, I ran around my aunt's garden in Donji Kokoti and picked apricots straight from the branch, and my mother scolded me that I would climb too high and fall. Then I just grumbled, and now that's the first image that comes to mind when I think of happiness. Shaburov is right, you only remember later.
