Many children's First Communion Day is stressful. I'm worried about how my father buys alcohol. I had a whole jar of jam for breakfast. My father slowly dressed up in an old suit. I was afraid he might do something wrong, but he promised to improve recently.

But before the mass, he drank from a flask behind a pillar. I was worried it was gonna end in a larm. Selected children carried fancies to the altar and then the father started to hum the sea shanties. My dream was to go underground and my father laughed at himself. Thank God he calmed down with Communion, but just afterwards he tripped and fell down. There was a deep silence in the church at that time. The priest and many parishioners came with help. They quickly erected my father with a bleeding eyebrow, but he broke out and walked away with a wobbly step. After a while, he was lying by the church gate in a ditch. I was hoping nobody would tell you that.

We couldn't afford to rent a place, so we had a party in our flat. Together with my mother we brought father home and put him in the bedroom, under a blanket. My father seemed to be in worse and worse shape. With our soul on our shoulder, we ate another dish. I received a watch without a strap as a gift, while my father, on the other hand, had supplemented the bar earlier. It seemed that he had already started to snore when he started to bounce from the wall to the wall. Eventually, he went into the living room and looked at everyone. He started to tear himself to pieces, not sparing the curse of many. Finally, when he got tired, he said: 'Well, dick and bye'. He dropped the tablecloth with the tableware. There was nothing to eat anymore.

When I finally fell asleep after that bad day, my door was opening, I heard. 'The Communists have recently killed… Who saw them to get gifts' - he muttered and climbed onto my bed. He crushed me with his body, all I saw was a desk... From then on I preferred to sleep in my mommy's room. That was the solemn First Communion Day…