167 lines
4.0 KiB
TeX
167 lines
4.0 KiB
TeX
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% 2026.01.27-TheWomanWhoHeardMore\\
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\herosection{The Woman Who Heard More}
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\dropstart{One} morning, \\
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Maribel's husband went to the well for water ---\\
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and did not come back.\\
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They found him dead on the path.\\
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No accident anyone saw.\\
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No illness anyone could name.\\
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No cause anyone could discern.
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After that, \\
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Maribel began hearing people differently.
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A neighbor said, \\
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``I'm glad my brother moved away,'' \\
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and Maribel heard \\
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the void of loss in her heart.
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A cousin said, \\
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``It was necessary\ldots'' \\
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and she heard the yearning — \\
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``If only\ldots''
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At first, \\
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she thought it was grief.\\
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Grief scrambles the gizzards of one's soul.\\
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Yet, the feeling did not fade — \\
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it sharpened.
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She answered people with less than she used to: \\
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a wordless nod, \\
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a longer look, \\
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a cup of tea poured more slowly.
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When the baker said, \\
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``Business is fine,'' \\
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Maribel noticed how his hands shook \\
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and steadied them with her own.
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When her sister said, \\
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``I don't mind being alone,'' \\
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Maribel saw — and asked her to stay for supper.
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People noticed.
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They began stopping by in the evenings — \\
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not formally, \\
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just lingering on her patio, \\
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sitting on her husband's stool, \\
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talking sideways about things.
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A woman said she was angry at her mother \\
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and did not know why.\\
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A man said he was proud of his son \\
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and then stared into his cup \\
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as if waiting for something to float up.
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Maribel did not resolve anything.\\
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She made space for sentences to finish themselves.
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It became known, \\
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in a small way, \\
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that if you didn't want advice, \\
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you went to Maribel.\\
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If you didn't want to be told \\
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what you should feel, \\
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you went to Maribel.\\
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If you wanted to hear your own voice slowed down \\
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until it sounded like yours, \\
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you went to Maribel.
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This was not a gift she asked for.\\
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It cost her sleep.\\
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It cost her appetite.\\
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It cost her the feeling of being finished \\
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at the end of the day.
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Sometimes, \\
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after everyone left, \\
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she would just sit in the waning light \\
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with both hands palms down on the table, \\
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feeling as though something had been poured into her \\
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that had no exit.
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One afternoon, \\
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a young couple came.\\
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They had been married less than a year \\
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and were already tired in a way that looked old.
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He spoke first.\\
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She corrected him.\\
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He tried again.\\
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She folded her arms.
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They both looked at Maribel — \\
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for the pointless victory of being right.
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Maribel felt the familiar pressure behind their words, \\
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two versions of the same loneliness wearing different coats.
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If she spoke, \\
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one of them would hear themselves as betrayed.\\
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If she stayed silent, \\
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both would feel abandoned.\\
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She poured more tea.
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`` So you think I'm wrong,'' the wife said. \\
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``I think your words are sharp,'' Maribel said.
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`` So you agree with her,'' the husband said. \\
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``I think your words are heavy,'' Maribel said.
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They stared at her \\
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as if she had rearranged the furniture \\
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while they were sitting on it.
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They left without resolution — \\
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not angry, \\
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not healed, \\
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only slowed.
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After that, \\
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fewer people came with disputes.\\
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More came with stories.
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Someone talked about a childhood friend \\
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whose face they could no longer remember.\\
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Someone confessed they were afraid of being happy \\
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because it felt like tempting something.
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Maribel's house changed.\\
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Not in size — \\
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in temperature.\\
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Words behaved differently there.\\
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They arrived less armored.
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Some people stopped coming.\\
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They said she was hard to read, \\
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that she didn't take sides, \\
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that she made everything complicated.
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Maribel did not argue.\\
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Her days became quieter.\\
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Her nights heavier.
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Sometimes she wished she could go back\\
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to the old way of hearing,\\
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when a sentence was just a sentence,\\
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when ``fine'' just meant fine.
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One evening,\\
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after the last visitor had gone,\\
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Maribel sat alone on the patio.
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Across from her stood her husband's stool.
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She poured a second cup of tea.
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For a long time,\\
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she sat and said nothing \\
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in the waning light.
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\reflectionshead
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What might we hear if we just listened? |