⏱ ~4 min reading
Marinka loved to talk. Her words flowed like a stream that would soon turn into a river — fast, cheerful, and never stopping. She could talk about anything: about a new pencil with glitter, about a dream with a pink raccoon, about how her grandmother baked cheesecakes with raisins yesterday.
It was difficult with only one person. Listening to the others.
When her friends were talking, Marinka would interrupt. Not out of spite. She just had an idea of her own, and it was so interesting that she couldn't keep quiet.
"And yesterday I..." Irynka began.
"And I was at the zoo!" Marinka picked up. "There was a giraffe there, it was chewing on a branch!"
Irynka sighed and closed her story. Marinka didn't notice.
Once they were sitting in the yard - Marinka, Irynka and Sofiyka. There were yellow chestnuts on the bench - Sofiyka was picking them in her palm. Irynka wanted to tell me something important.
"Girls, yesterday I..." Irynka began quietly.
"And I found a pink button!" Marinka jumped up. "Look, there it is! It's like a petal!"
Irynka pursed her lips. She put the chestnut back on the bench. She stood up.
“I’m going home,” she said.
"What? We just arrived!"
Irynka shook her head and left. Marinka looked after her - she didn't understand anything. Sofiyka looked at Marinka.
“What?” Marinka asked.
"She wanted to say something. And you didn't let her.".
— I didn't notice... What did she want?
"I don't know. She never said.".
In the evening, Marinka came home pensive. Mom noticed right away—moms always notice. She was washing dishes, and the kitchen smelled of lemon detergent and slightly warm water.
— What happened, swallow?
Marinka told me. Mom wiped her hands with a towel. She sat down next to me.
— You know, Marinka, there is such a thing - it is called "space for the other". When you speak - you take up space in the conversation. When you listen - you give space to the other. If you take up all the time - a person gradually becomes silent. Because they have nowhere to put their words.
— How is this a place for words?
— Imagine: a conversation is a small circle. You sit in it. And Irynka sits too. If you talk all the time, Irynka shrinks, because you need a lot of space. And it becomes cramped for her.
Marinka thought. She imagined a circle. In it, she was herself - big, talkative. And small, cramped Irynka.
— Mom, what should I do?
— Try this. When someone starts talking, wait for the period. Not the comma. Period. When the person is completely finished. And only then say your piece.
— What if I forget my opinion?
— You'll remember. And if you forget, it means it wasn't very important.
The next day, Marinka ran to look for Irynka. She was sitting by her door with a book.
"Irko," said Marinka. "Tell me what you wanted yesterday?"
"Never mind, I forgot already.".
"Tell me. I won't interrupt. Honestly. I'll wait for the full stop.".
Irynka smiled. She closed the book.
— We had a kitten yesterday. A little white one. Mom brought it from work — someone dropped it off there. It's so small, we're still feeding it with milk from a bottle. I wanted to tell you because I thought you'd want to see it too.
Marinka was silent. She listened. She waited for the full stop.
"That's all," said Irynka.
“Can I take a look?” Marinka asked.
It was hard for her not to blurt out something about her old hamster. But she held back. Irynka nodded, and they left together.
The kitten was tiny, with blue eyes. It lay in a box on an old sweater and looked at the girls as if at a great miracle.
Marinka softly stroked his paw with her finger. Irynka looked at Marinka and smiled.
Marinka had a new feeling in her chest. Warm. It turns out that when the other person finishes talking, he is happy. And when he is happy, you are happy too. It's such a simple exchange.
From that day on, Marinka didn't stop interrupting right away. It doesn't happen overnight. But every day it gets a little better. Because there was more room for others in her circle of friends' conversations. And her friends told her more.
💡 Interrupting is a small inattention, listening to the end is a great respect.