Listening

"When we first married," a Romanian woman told us in her home, "My husband talked, and I listened."

"But as time passed," the husband explained, "my wife talked and I listened."

"But now," the couple continued, "we both talk, and the neighbors listen!" The wife leaned back in her chair, eyes shut as she giggled. The husband leaned forward as he smiled, enjoying the sight of us, his guests, laughing at this explaination of their relationship.

This wife had married at eighteen to a husband of twenty-three. Here they sat as grandparents, showing us the pictures of their youngest curly blond-headed granddaughters, enjoying life as if it was some sort of kiddy roller-coaster. The wife would run into the other room when her husband or a guest needed a napkin or a spoon. The husband enjoyed nothing more than telling jokes to the guests that came other. When I had first walked in the home, I had thought the couple was brother and sister or else just two good friends, yet somehow not necessarily husband and wife. I didn't want to leave their house.