Family history in the history of my city

The history of my family dates back to a long time ago. I do not even know where and how. The only thing I can tell is the stories of grandmothers and they are very interesting and exciting. We are the aboriginals of our city, but as my grandmother says on my mother’s line: “We were not born in him, but he grew up around us.”

My great-grandparents lived in the Soviet Union. Mighty and great country. Her grandfather was always proud of her mother’s line and very much regrets her disintegration. In the same place my grandparents were born. Mom’s parents always lived in one place and did not move anywhere. So there’s nothing to say about them. They had a mother. Then the Soviet Union broke up, and I was born in a separate country.

But my father’s parents are all much more interesting. Grandfather was a military officer and his long service was sent to different places. Naturally, the grandmother, as befits the officer’s wife, followed him. Where only they did not live. And in Kazakhstan, and in Poland, and in Ukraine, and in Russia. Then, for some reason, my grandfather and grandmother, on my father’s line, parted. Grandmother and father and his brother and sister returned to their hometown. Then my parents met.

So with confidence I can say that I am the native inhabitant of our city, since I was born here and grew up, and I’m not going to move anywhere. But about father’s parents you can argue. They were born at all, not here, and the pope himself traveled for a long time in the camps, though he remembers a little, since he was still a child. But to grandfather, he said that we must somehow go. After all, even if there are already two countries, Russia and Ukraine, then for many old-timers this is one brotherly people. And even if the roots of my ancestors are not entirely Russian, I am exactly the Russian people. I love my country and my parents.

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Family history in the history of my city