When My Wife Speaks with Me

It is a holy moment when my wife wants to speak to me. I do not mean when she asks if I made a sandwich for Yossi for school or where is the tape. I am talking about when she wants to have a personal conversation. Therefore, similar to all holy acts, I prepare: I shut off my cell phone, I turn off the ringer on the land line and I turn off the doorbell (I figured out how to do it). Since I haven't figured out how to turn off Yossi, Tali and Riki, I set them up with something interesting to do. If they nonetheless cry and scream, it is okay, I learned that it is actually healthy for them not always to get want they want. I then sit across from her or next to her – depending on the situation – and I listen. It is so interesting. Don't get me wrong, my wife is not a professor, lecturer or artist. She is much more than this: she is my wife. It is true. If someone else spoke to me like this, it would bore me to death. But because she is my wife, it is so interesting. I am beginning to believe that we are two beings who are in fact one.