One farmer from Alpine village in winter his wife died. The man loved his wife, but because of snow could not bury her. He took the woman to the barn, coming in every day to chop wood and inserted in the open mouth of a dead woman the lamp to illuminate the working place. Spring came, and the pastor noticed strange marks on the face of the deceased, asked her husband, received an answer, but was not able to explain to the widower that he was done wrong.
This is a retelling of one of the best stories in the world literature. Ernest Hemingway. "The Alpine idyll".
Valentine's day is customary to give flowers, chocolates and Teddy bears, to invite the girl in the cafe. And then...
But with this "then" and the problems begin. With a woman it is necessary to communicate, and with it many problems.
I often do not know how to listen and hear the other person. No, of course, if the friend every six months will tell me what the salary is small, a lot of work, children, sick, and young man or husband constantly disappears somewhere, I'll listen. A word of advice, a couple of times you'll call or write in social networks, and then all my credit sympathy is exhausted.
But during a rare meeting with dear to me people I'm a good listener. I feel sorry for a person to leave, I get great pleasure from the conversation, I become attentive and interested.
And then it all disappears somewhere, and my family, whom I see every day, do not receive sufficient support. I've got important things to do – eat, sleep, work, go swimming, write an article, read a book, watch a movie. Time is rapidly disappearing, and the days go by and I have not talked to my wife, didn't listen to her, is not supported.
The years pass. I give flowers and Teddy bears, but still can't hear your favorite:
— How are you doing at work?
-I'm very tired today, we had an unpleasant meeting.... (at this point I was already gone, because he wanted to hear the answer "Fine").
Another evening is gone. In the heart of the wife in our marriage hammered another nail. Our conversations often resemble a replica of the militants:
— Have you eaten?
-Child from the garden take?
-He's good in the garden?
-You the teacher asked how was he acting?
I'm exaggerating a bit, but sometimes instead I could answer the tape on which recorded only four words: "Yes", "No", "Hello", "Bye". However, lying. There is a fifth, my favorite, "Fine."
-How do I look?
-How was your dinner?
-It is normal.
-How was your trip to friends?
-It is normal.
It is strange. I am a philologist, journalist, lecturer. Author of columns. Do I have to the most expensive woman in the world, there are no other words? Why my love for her is limited to what I bring home a salary, sometimes give flowers, kiss the wife and sleep around?
Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh in one of his interviews said that we often refer to man as "strawberries with cream". Eat, eat, and then throw away.
Never growing up, we think of your fellow man, as a Kid from the book by Astrid Lindgren, who was afraid that after the death of his elder brother he will have to "wearing" his old and ugly wife.
Meanwhile, the secret of family happiness and love is simple. You need to start to talk and hear each other. To go to a cafe, to sit at the same table and talk as if you haven't seen him six months to tell each other about what you feel, want and dream.
Don't hope that the husband or the wife will guess your wishes if you do not share. To stop living in fears and fantasies and back to reality.
Then it turns out that your wife or husband, your girlfriend or young man is not a blender, not a stand for the lamp, not the home of the master, and the person, the image of God, with whom you can still talk. Until she or he are alive and near you.
Then it will appear that I know more than five words to men, and my wife knows how to explain what's in her heart so that even I can understand. Then Valentine's day is not just once a year, but every day.
Author: Andrei Zaitsev