What is it about Sundays that bring out the serious in her? At least it is short….
When a person talks to you, like really talks to you, like opens herself up and hands you a piece of her heart and mind, there is no real question about what to do. She doesn’t have to share this thought with you. He could have flung something mean at you out a car window. She could have recited some bland and polite talking point near you at a party. He could have talked about the rain last night; she could have bemoaned the snow. But instead, this person has taken the time to trust you with an opinion, a thought, a wisp of soul from deep within a social protection bubble. When this happens, you do not ignore it. You do not merely wait for a pause in the conversation long enough for you to pontificate. You carefully catch this gift, this treasure. Don’t throw it away. Look at it. Study it. See more than what you don’t like about it. Look up and see the person who entrusted this to you. Then, respond. Say “thank you for this thought.” And then, only then, open yourself up and hand her one of your own. It is only fair. Don’t hurl it at her, don’t drop it his feet. Don’t shout it over her head to some people you know. Share it with him. He shared with you. Share. That is the sole purpose of words, their only purpose. For us to share them with each other.
If you do this enough, you make a conversation. Not noise. Not simultaneous monologues. A conversation. Conversations which turns into communities. Which turn into friendships. Which turn into families.
And when we are all families, we can shout as much as we want and still love each other. Win, win.
Wanna be family with these people?