Life is too short for boring stories

“It’s good to go back,” Martinique said as they settled at the edge of the forest.
“Whatever that means,” Christian replied thoughtfully.
“For me it means finding myself in those moments when I felt cared for and looked after and protected,” Martinique replied as she took a thermos out of her backpack and poured it. There was also something to eat. Silently, they sat side by side for a moment while they ate and drank. It was good because it was warming, but not just because the tea was warm, like the soup, but because eating is more than feeding, more than just satisfying the hunger. Especially if you share it.

“What were those moments?” Christian asked.
“When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother,” Martinique began, “Mostly we were in the spacious eat-in kitchen. My grandmother had tied her apron and was busy while I was painting or tinkering or helping her. Whenever I came, I got tea and biscuits or, especially in winter, when we spent a lot of time in the woods and were completely frozen through, soup. As a matter of course, she put it in front of us and we accepted it. I do not even remember if we appreciated that at the time or thought it would be that way. Many years later, when I got more and more problems with my parents, it was my sanctuary, my place of wellbeing. My grandmother did not ask, but warmed me, with tea and soup. When I wanted to talk, she listened. If not, then it was good too. She just let me be there. But the food we shared was good for the heart too. These were the moments when I felt protected and cared for and protected. “
“There is something in the way of sharing food,” said Christian, “thank you.”
“For what?” Martinique asked irritated.
“That you have everything prepared and taken with you and share with me,” Christian replied promptly.
“It’s what you do with people you like,” Martinique explained. “It’s so beautiful and so obvious. I cannot remember thanking my grandmother ever. “
“Do not you think that your visit, the time you spent together, was thanks enough for her?” Christian tried to explain, “and that’s why you did not expect it.”
“You’re probably right,” said Martinique, “It’s maybe my way of telling you that it’s good to be here with you, or somewhere else, but just with you. And man is not just spirit, but also body, and if we neglect either one, it has an effect on our overall feeling. When I talk to you, when I exchange with you, it is good for my spirit. If you take my hand or hug me or catch me in my dreams, then it will be good for my soul. And if you eat with me, it will be good for my body. “
“And if you make sure that it can be so, it is also a small piece arrive, maybe well-being and satisfaction,” said Christian pensive.
“And maybe a little bit happy?” Martinique asked, immediately feeling that she was presumptuous, at least towards him.
“Happy, that’s a little too much, too high,” he said, not sure if it was equanimity or melancholy, which resonated in his voice, “It’s also the fear of happiness, up to certain degree, but satisfied, that’s a lot. You do not always want everything at once. “
“Why do you not have to want everything at once?”, She threw in a bit too brusquely, “Do not you just have to want everything, and all at once?”
“Stubborn and spirited,” he acknowledged her questions amused, “I like that. Otherwise you would not be who you are. Paired with a bit of prudence on my part, that’s a wonderful mix.”

Silently they finished eating. It was clearly one of those moments for her, the one she felt cared for and looked after and protected like she was then, but she did not need to say that because he knew it. Just that she wished he could find it, and also give up mistrust of happiness.


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