I took my husband to school of love - part 1

I took my husband to school of love - part 1

By the time my words will see the light of printing, my family will certainly be grown and I will be much happier than ever. And not just because we are three, but because my husband has finally learned that I am the most important being in his life. For this, I must thank the divinity, who gave me unexpected help!

Only in an instant moment, on the street, I discover the secret of true love. No pompous words, no bouquets of flowers with the size of a chariot wheel, no diamonds or exotic holidays. It cannot be bought, but it can be learned to come to light from the nest of the heart.

I was seven months pregnant, swollen like a balloon, my back ached, and I was carrying a huge, heavy bag. I was coming from the market and I was in a hurry to get home and start cooking. And what if my whole body screams that it wants to rest and a little tenderness? Only I could hear him, Virgil, my husband, was with the boys at the match. He also had a fixed schedule for Saturday, like his friends: in the stands, at the match, then at the beer. With boys. Then straight to the lunch.

I could barely crawl down the street, thinking that our new car was standing unused in front of our building. I had to get my driver's license. And, until then, a shopping cart, like the old woman who had just stopped next to me at the stop. I looked at her: thin as a leaf, but with a discreet smile on her face, she was leaning on the handle of a ragged, bulging stroller, from which green onion moustaches protruded. I wondered why he could smile when it turned green. The old woman grabbed the cart and hurried across the street, but the cart leaned over the curb and overturned by the gutter, displaying vegetables and fruits like a cornucopia. I left my bag on the floor and ran to it. I picked up her cart and helped her gather her groceries until the traffic light turned red, and the potatoes, plums, apples and greens were all crushed by the wheels of the cars.

"Leave it, little girl, don't bend over, because you're bothering the little one in your belly because of me!"

"It's not a problem, he's used to shaking," I replied, amused and moved at the same time. That's it, I'm done! Wait a minute to get my bag and I'll take your cart as we cross.

"Well, that's good! You better put your bag on the stroller, let's cross the street faster, because I'm in a hurry. No, it's red again!" Eventually, I placed my bag on her stroller and carried it myself, despite her shouts.

"But where are you in such a hurry?" I asked her to change the subject.

"At home, because my husband came out to meet me and I can't let him wait for me. Look at him, he's already lost his temper! That's it, George, I'm here my love!"

I had reached the other sidewalk. An old man was coming towards us on the alley in front of the block next to us. He wore dark glasses and ... a white cane, with which he felt his way. He hurried, refreshed.

"Come on, darling, did you buy half the market again? he said cheerfully. Give me the cart and come home, I made coffee for you!"

I don't know what happened to me, because I burst into tears.

"Oh, little girl, what did you suffer? The old woman asked me worriedly. Are you sick? Do you have any pain?

"No, I don't ... I don't know."

"It hurts, as far as I understand. Let's have a coffee with us!"

"No, leave it" ... I tried to refuse it through tears, but not energetically enough.

"A coffee with milk will dry your tears, little girl, and your baby will rest a little bit in your belly."

"Let's hurry because our coffee is getting cold!"

Stay tuned for part 2!