50 short adult bedtime stories (audio podcast)

an ephemeral story

Ni Mali clung tightly to her mother Habiba’s skirt.

Dawn in Sidi Ifni and the sirocco had erased the foreseeable line of the horizon turning the expected sky blue into an earthy red.

The fog was so thick that it made it almost impossible to see the path.

Not even Mali hated getting up early and more when she had to interrupt dreams that, for her, were of great importance.

That night he dreamed of the brown water at the mouth of the river, of Habiba and his grandfather Rafaelwho had died before she was born, just as the Spaniards left the city, and of whom she had a photograph in military dress well kept inside a large squared notebook with a drawing of a butterfly on the cover.

In the dream, Habiba washes the bottom of the djellaba that she is wearing She does it without taking it off while Rafael watches her carefully.

All the mud does is make the djellaba dirty more and morehigher and higher, no matter how much Habiba rubs frantically.

Raphael seems satisfiedalmost about to applaud.

Then Habiba stops dead, looks at Ni Mali, and drops into the river like a ripe plum.

Ni Mali runs to her mother while Rafael opens his arms smiling with the same face he has in the photograph.

Habiba sinks and for a few seconds only the sound of water in the riverbed is heard.

Ni Mali is on the shore and tries to look at the bottom, but everything is cloudy and He only manages to see his shadow trying to look in the background.

after a few seconds a white butterfly with brown spots emerges from the water of fluttering wildcat.

Neither Mali tries to catch her, but just at that moment her mother woke her up like every day, except Mondays, to go pick the prickly pears from the cacti.

This had been his only livelihood for a long time.

They walked in a hurry along the wall with a couple of blue plastic buckets that sometimes collided with a stone on the way.

In the distance, the preparations for the caravan festival could be heard..

—Run, Ni Mali, we’re going to be late.

Ni Mali quickened her pace, trying to take bigger strides with her tiny feet.

Habiba began to cough quite forcefully and took out a handkerchief without slowing down.

“Damn dust.”

Ni Mali saw a small bloodstain on the handkerchief before his mother put it back in the pocket of the djellaba.

“What are you doing, Ni Mali?” Habiba asked, looking a bit desperate as her daughter had stopped short.

The girl had left the bucket on the ground and I was in front of a cactus It was at least three heads taller.

“Look how pretty,” he said, pointing to the center of the plant.

There, among hundreds of challenging peaks, a fuchsia flower with endive-shaped petals stood out.

Ni Mali was already trying to pull it off when Habiba gently stopped it with her hand.

Ni Mali gave her mother an annoyed look.

“Let me take it!” Is for you!

Habiba cradled her daughter with a smile.

“Thank you, Ni Mali.” I do not want it. Did you know that cactus flowers are ephemeral?

Ni Mali shook his head no.

“Do you know what is ephemeral?”

Ni Mali denied again, exactly repeating the previous movement.

—Ephemeral is that it only lasts a day. The flower was born today and will die today.

Ni Mali looked again at the flower, which now seemed much more important to her, almost like her dreams.

-So then, if she’s going to die anyway, we can take her with us. If you don’t want it, we’ll put it in the notebook next to her grandfather’s photo so that she can get dry of it –said Ni Mali trying to convince her mother.

No, not Mali. The flower is from the plant. Can’t you see all the spikes it has? How green is it? And now, today, you have something beautiful. Would you have stopped to look at her if she didn’t have the flower?

Ni Mali looked around at the hundreds of similar cacti.

“So we have to leave it to her because it’s the only pretty thing she has?”

That’s it, Ni Mali. Besides, ephemeral things are the most beautiful Habiba said, caressing her daughter’s forehead.

They collected the buckets and two hundred meters away the rest of the women and girls with whom they were going to share the daily work were waiting for them.

Just before arriving, Habiba crouched down to her daughter’s ear.

—Neither Mali, my pretty girl, we are all a flower. we are all ephemeral. Grandpa was. I am too. Don’t ever let anyone rip you off, because all the time we have is today. and because you are pretty, despite the fact that peaks surround you, and you will always, always be worthy of admiration.

Ni Mali then looked into her bucket and there was the white butterfly with brown wildcat spots.

Just fluttering.

I didn’t tell you so as not to hurt you

Joshua Ness – Unsplash

Silvia and Max had been around for a while enjoying the first coffee in the morning.

Despite the haste with which Silvia had asked her to meet, Max was in no rush to find out what was wrong with him. When she wanted, she would tell him.

After half an hour of lively talk, Silvia told him:
—Max, Friday was my last day of work.
“What has happened?”
—My boss doesn’t like how I do things. He thinks I’m too pushy with clients and, by the looks of it, has had some complaints. He invited me to leave…

—And how are you now?
—Baffledthe truth, because the dismissal It caught me off guard…
“Did you know what he thought of you?”
-No but others did know. My partner Ruth told me that he had mentioned it to her a couple of times, but that she hadn’t told me so as not to hurt me.

“And how do you feel knowing this?”
-Well, bad. I can’t help but think it would have helped me to know. I could have rectified, done things differently and perhaps I would have redirected the situation. But I also understand…
“What do you understand?”
—That he didn’t tell me… Deep down, I also function like this, I keep quiet according to what things so as not to hurt others…

Max got up. He ceremoniously went to the kitchen and returned with his cup of coffee. The conversation was going to drag on.
-Silvia, we cannot change the situation, but we can learn from it. Now you have felt in your own skin how little it has helped you that someone who appreciates you did not tell you something you needed to know. You sure don’t want that this happens to someone you appreciatethat cannot have valuable information just because you are afraid to offer it.

Silvia showed the bewilderment on her face, so Max hastened to add:
—For example, if someone close to us has self-destructive behavior, opting for passivity and not telling them is not a good idea. We can’t close our eyes when we see someone we appreciate walking off the cliff.

Silvia recognized herself perfectly in the behavior that Max described.
“Often, as we find it hard to say, when we finally gather up the courage and do it, we fall into the other extreme: aggressiveness. We say things violently, making him feel bad.
-And then?

When expressing something that is uncomfortable for us, it is convenient to do so with respect and consideration; without judging and weighing, at all times, the predisposition of the other to listen to us.

—Between passivity and aggressiveness there is a path: assertiveness. The ability to not stop saying things, but to do it in a way that helps, that our message does not hurt but moves to be heard. That our interlocutor does not close in band but quite the opposite.
“And how is it achieved?”
—We must take great care in the way of saying itbeing very aware that the other does not feel attacked.

Max’s words were permeating Silvia, who was listening to him attentively.

—When a person feels hurt, they stop listening.Everything we say will fall on deaf ears and will be useless. It may be that we remain calm, since we have told him everything; but the other will not help. That’s why we must be especially sensitive to all signs that tell us that we are exceeding the level that the other can endure.

“And where do we find these signs?”
—In the expression, in the look, in the reaction to the questions… You will know how to capture them, do not doubt it. Only it is about observing the other carefully.

Silvia was convinced. Max’s words made all the sense in the world. Thinking back to what had happened to him on Friday, he said to Max:
“Max, I have it perfectly. And I am also clear that Ruth would do well to hear your theory. How about I tell you?

Max, quick in his reaction, replied:
—How do you feel about the idea of ​​telling him?
-Phew! I’m scared of it. I don’t know if you will understand…
—Well, you should know that this fear that you feel it can take you away from assertiveness.
“And what do I do then?” Shall I keep it quiet?
-No but First you have to overcome this fear. Convince yourself that you are doing what is best for her, and anticipate that she may have a negative first reaction. When you feel ready, it will be time to tell him.

Silvia said goodbye to Max. The next morning, Max received a terse message. He would say, “I’ve talked to Ruth. It has not been a bed of roses; when we were saying goodbye, he thanked me”.

How to say what you think without hurting

If you see that I behave in a way that will harm me, don’t stop telling me. But do it so it doesn’t hurt me and can perceive it as a help.At the right time: when you see me readynot just when you’ve worked up the courage to tell me. In the right tone: without aggressiveness, without scolding me, without judging me.It is very possible that he will show me very sensibleand I need you to be in the way you talk to me.at the right pace: If I can’t absorb it all today, we’ll continue tomorrow. No hurry.Accepting me in my behavior: because I can only change if I decide. And I will only decide if I feel accepted. always with love and appreciationnot from censorship or the intention to teach me a lesson.

And what would you do?

Carolina walked the dog through a park with his daughter Alba. They hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks, and the meeting had been Alba’s initiative, who wanted her mother’s advice on a matter that concerned her.

While the dog played with other dogs, they sat on a bench to talk. Alba explained to her mother a monumental affair that she had had with Iñaki, a co-worker of hers. She ended up asking him:

-What would you do?

His mother did not think twice. She replied:

“Call him, and do it now.”

“But what do I tell him?”

“First of all, you apologize. And he should apologize too.

“Yeah… but are you sure?” Won’t you let a little time pass?

-Do not think about it. Do exactly what I tell you. Always works.

Alba meditated on her mother’s advice. After a moment, she said to him:

—Okay, I’ll do what you tell me, although I’m not convinced one hundred percent. I’ll leave you, the children are waiting for me. Thank you for your advice. I hope it works for me…

Carolina remained seated on the bench, and suddenly she heard a voice next to her saying:

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Puzzled, she looked in the direction of the source of the voice and met the gaze of an endearing older man. Tempted to get up and disappear, her curiosity got the better of her logic, so she remained seated and continued the dialogue:

“What is this question about?”

“Allow me to introduce myself.” My name is Max. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and…