On listening

He dislikes reading...a pastime I'm rather fond of. He claims to be a good listener, but I'm often so taken up with myself and my ego that I have doubted it. Lord only knows how many times. Yet, I continue to ramble on about the books I've read or wanted to read while he plays Zeppelin in his head. Many months later, wrapped in a Christmas package, was Marquez's "Love in the Time of Cholera". At that moment my memory does a scan back in time, trying to figure out when and where I mentioned that book, but I'm rather blank because joy is effused in my system...all coherence is lost. That was more than two years ago...and it made me realise that even when he doesn't seem to listen, he hears all the right things - and that's really all that matters.

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