His shock of white hair stood on end as he ran his hands through it. He wanted to talk about food, rattling off recipes from memory until I ran out of room on the cheap hospital stationery I’d grabbed from a nurse. At 16, my cooking repertoire was limited to frozen burritos and microwaveable meals. Yet here I sat, discussing veal osso bucco and charlotte russe with a stranger. My dad had undergone open-heart surgery at the Seattle Veterans Administration Hospital and while he dozed, I hoped to sneak out to the vending machine to snag a candy bar. “I’m starving,” I said to my mom. I never made it to the vending machine. “Miss?” said the man in the bed next to my dad’s. “Do you have a minute?” And that’s how I met the man who showed me the perfect gift for any occasion from Valentine’s Day to Christmas morning. No one is allergic to it. It’s truly one size-fits-all, and it doesn’t cost a dime. It’s the gift of listening, and I admit, at first I gave it grudgingly/Cindy Hval, SR Front Porch. More here.
Question: Who will you listen to today?