Don't You Ever Be Sorry
As far as I remember have I never asked, begged for something. My mother chose, provided for my clothes, shoes, school necessities, when I’m married, you did it for me, our sons bought me a wrist-watch, sports-shoes, a mountain-bike, a piano, computer, my father provided some money to buy us a house and our sons rebuilt it for us into a big house. There’s still a lot I haven’t mentioned.
I said: “God, I’ve nothing to ask, don’t worry, trouble Yourself to grant me anything,” then unasked He grants me a father and a mother, three sons and a daughter except which I can’t choose them myself. Yet I would never, ever exchange them with another father and mother, or other children how loving, good, delightful, smart they are. But I may choose you, you know? Who knows, someday I might repent and think of exchanging you. Ha. Ha. What do you say?
I have no car and go by train, bus, walk or bike and buy me an organ. Yet, am I content. I feel myself very rich.
Sure, a man may look like a scare-crow like me, but what if he were rich in thoughts and feelings. What’s a wealthy, handsome man if he were empty, hollow, barren? Think of the mango which is not pleasing to the eye but is so fragrant and so sweet. The eye may err you know? Aren’t you proud of your smart husband and who has the courage to praise himself? Don’t you ever be sorry. Now, kiss me. It’s a command.
So Opa Johan said to his wife.
December 2009
November 2012
