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Excerpt
The Three
Questions
“Please
answer these questions:
Question
1-
What do
you think about, when you see yourself for the first time in the mirror in the
morning?
Question
2-
What do
you see when you look through your bedroom window?
Question
3-
What is
the color of a candle flame?“
“What?”
said John.
“Don’t
ask, just answer. I just want you to
answer the questions,” said Constance.
“And what
happens when I answer?”
“Nothing,
I am curious; can you just answer?” said Constance.
“Ok…here
are my answers.
Question
1-
When I
see myself the first time in the mirror in the morning, I think about how
beautiful my life is, and I think about all that I will make in my day. I also think about the world, and the poor
kids in Africa.
Question
2-
When I
look through my bedroom window, I see the world. The world that I want to conquer.
Question
3-
The
candle flame: it is yellow.”
An image
appeared in front of Constance eyes, the image of smoke, and disappeared
quickly.
“Can we
go now, Constance?”
They were
going, together with a group of friends, to the cinema.
It wasn’t
a date, but it was more than the usual “just say hi” at the University’s breaks
between classes.
Constance
was quiet; they would not be friends for long.
She did not know what to say. She
was disappointed. She liked John. We will just be friends, she thought.
Constance
was disappointed.
Oh well, she
thought…the image of smoke again.
When
Constance was 7 years old, her grandfather, who she called “Nonno” due to the
Italian origin of her family, told her about the three magic questions. Questions that would tell her more about
someone, than the person him or herself could tell.
Questions
that allowed her not to wait for their actions, to see how someone is.
Since
then, Constance used to ask these three questions to many persons. It was a way to know them better, to learn how
they really are.
Nonno told
her, one of the last times she saw him:
“Few
friends will stay in your life. Some
friends are just passing by, through your life, and most of them are not really
friends at all. But all them will leave
their marks, good and bad marks, and all of them will be part of your story. I will not be here forever, Picolina, so you
need to learn to take care of yourself. So, never forget to ask The Three Magic
questions.
The
Answer to the first question will tell you if someone is a liar.
The answer
to the second one will show you how the person sees the world.
The
answer to the third one will tell you if the person sees the world in a
conscious way.
Don’t
expect persons to be perfect; no one is. But knowing how persons are can help you to
understand them. Don’t expect them to be
what they are not, accept them as they are, and, make sure to keep a healthy
distance from people that could hurt you.”
Her
grandfather died shortly after telling her the secret of the Three Questions. There was no sickness, no accident; he was
just old, like an old three that falls over the Earth when there are no more
leaves on it to breathe. No more life
inside of it, to create new leaves. Like
that, he stopped to breathe.
And
Constance, Constance was 7 years old when he died, and she missed him. The Story Teller, The Magic Grandfather, the
one that could tell her stories, about all and nothing.
Like
seeds from a tree, shortly before falling, he gave her the questions.
Constance
wasn’t expecting someone to give all the right answers. But…? Another
liar, again?
Smoke
images, shattered ones and sometimes, sometimes no images at all. In her small group of friends, the answers
were all different and they created different images inside of her mind.
No,
Constance did not expect her friends to be perfect. Constance just wanted to
know who they are. Because life was
sometimes hard, and persons, well persons never seem to be what they really are.
Or maybe, somewhere deep inside, she did
expect a more solid image to appear with the answers.
Constance went to visit her Grandfather at the cemetery; she was 20 years old
and had a bunch of wild flowers in her hands. Approaching his grave with
respect, Constance left the flowers over his grave and asked:
“Nonno…I
know that you are not here, but I don’t know where to go to speak to you. I miss you, Nonno. These questions, will there ever be someone
that gives me the right answers? Are
there any right answers at all?”
...
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