To’rayeva Sadoqat Qahramonovna
Author: To’rayeva Sadoqat Qahramonovna
The sun used to rise the same way every morning, but the mornings of childhood felt different. Back then, even the sun seemed to shine more warmly. Everything — fallen leaves, the water flowing through the ditch, the familiar household sounds — resonated with a magical meaning.
There is a garden I carry in my heart through the years. It no longer exists. The homes have been demolished, the garden replaced by concrete, the wooden benches by asphalt. But it was in that garden where we grew up. That garden is the heart of my childhood.
1
Every summer, I would visit my grandmother’s house, usually in June, when school had ended and notebooks were packed away in a chest. My grandmother’s house wasn’t big, but her yard… it was a true wonder.
Grapevines trailing along the walls, the cool shade of the mulberry tree, the well, the stream — that garden was a world of its own.
Every morning, I would wake up to the smell of bread. The clucking of chickens, birds chirping, the soft tunes sung by cart drivers on the street — all of it became a morning ritual for me.
At that time, I was eight years old. Hasty, yet full of dreams. I used to wander the garden with Nodir, the neighbor’s grandson. Every day, we would invent new games: climbing trees, dropping stones into the well to see whose went deeper, collecting water droplets on mulberry leaves… Such simple games, yet such immense joy!
2
One evening, Nodir and I went to the edge of the garden, near the stream. He gave me a stone — small, but smooth. He said, “This stone brings luck, but you must see it with your heart.”
I laughed. It was just an ordinary stone. But later, I realized: it wasn’t an ordinary stone — it was a symbol of attention, affection, and sincerity.
The next day, Nodir left for the mountains. I returned to the city. That turned out to be our final meeting.
3
Years passed. School ended. University, work, the whirlwind of life… My grandmother, that mulberry tree, the swing — all slowly disappeared. But the memory remains alive in my heart.
Today, after many years, I returned to that place. A shopping center now stands there. The old yard, the bone-dry stream, the cotton-stem bouquets — all now live only in my heart.
4
I held that stone in my hand again. I still have it. Clear, calm. It trembles in my palm. Its weight holds not only its physical mass, but also childhood memories, pure joy, friendship, and the ache of loss.
Again, Nodir’s words echo in my heart: “See this stone with your heart.”
Now I understand.
Childhood is not a time that becomes lighter as it passes, but one that grows heavier in your heart — and yet, at the same time, it’s the period that makes you the purest and truest version of yourself.
Sadoqat Qahramonovna To’rayeva was born on March 26, 2005, in Gurlan district of the Khorezm region. She graduated from School No. 23 in Gurlan district and studied at the academic lyceum of Urgench State University from 2021 to 2023. Currently, she is a second-year student at the Faculty of Philology and Art of Urgench State University named after Abu Rayhon Beruni.
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