There is a thing that happens to marriages that work, and nobody warns you because it does not look like a problem. You stop fighting. You stop wondering what they are going to say. And then one Tuesday you are both in the kitchen and you realize the last four things you said to each other were about the calendar. Nobody did anything wrong. That is exactly why it is so hard to notice. Here is the part that gets me. You answered all the real questions once, sitting on a floor somewhere at one in the morning, around twenty six years old. What scared you. What you wanted. Then you both filed those answers away as settled facts and got on with the next fifteen years. The answers moved. Of course they did. And the two of you have been walking around with a decade-old file on each other, which is a strange way to live with somebody you love. So: forty conversations, one to a page, that you have almost certainly not had lately. What you are afraid of this year. What you have quietly stopped hoping for. What you want more of and have never said out loud. Each one takes an evening. Read it, answer four questions, and at the bottom one line tells you what a hard answer actually means, because a hard answer is information and not a verdict. Being honest: this is not for a marriage in trouble. Nothing in here about crisis or fixing anything. If yours needs more help than a book, get more help than a book. This one is for the ones that are basically fine and have gone quiet. Two or three of these will take the whole evening, and you will hear something you did not know about a person you have lived with for ten years. You did not grow apart. You just stopped asking.
Prijshistorie
* Prijshistorie bevat geen data van Amazon, Amazon Marketplace.
Prijzen voor het laatst bijgewerkt op: