An Example of Real Listening
For reasons I do not remember, one day when I was fourteen years old I was a passenger in a car being driven by Geraldine, a friend of my parents. I began to tell her about my first and current experience with being in love—the falling down, blind drunk kind—with a girl at school who was three years older.
I cannot remember what motivated me to share this with her, because I knew at the time that every other adult I’d ever known would tell me that I was too young to know what love was, that I should be careful, bla bla bla. But after my dreamy, nearly opioid-induced narrative, she said, “She sounds like quite a woman.” I remember every word.
I couldn’t possibly have put into words how I felt then, because I’d never had an experience like that before. Ever. But now I can look back and describe my fourteen-year-old feelings easily, because I remember the event so clearly that I can still remember exactly where we were driving on Hulman Street as we approached Third Street.
I felt like someone understood me and had no agenda whatever for herself. She cared about ME—even though I WAS too young to know what love was—and it was thrilling.
Feeling heard, understood, and cared for is a satisfaction glorious beyond description. Our children need it, and we are in a unique position to offer such experiences regularly. If we do, we give them love and life.
