So, it’s 4:30am and I’m typing away my thoughts to you. I actually woke up at four and tossed and turned for a bit; my mind was restless, writing random lines and veering off the straight and narrow. I pulled it back on course, a huge ship, with much too much uncharted sea, and then my phone rang.
Little dog, who was sleeping within the folds of blanketed comfort next to me, barked out a lame warning, sort of a burpy half-bark, just in case I missed the ringing, making certain that I was awake; although she herself was unwilling to respond to the pre-dawn trilling of reveille.
With a huge family and close friends peppered around the planet the last sound I want to hear in the middle of the night is that of a ringing phone. A nocturnal ring sounds more like an air raid warning, screaming of an impending blitz, so I keep my phone a safe distance from my bedroom requiring the sound to work harder to reach my ears, dulling the alarming sensation of being rung awake. But in the blank slate of morning silence the ringing easily found my ears, jarring me into a state of, who-the-hell is-calling? And I-hope-the-kids-are-alright!
There was a certain tension between connecting my feet with the morning floor and reaching the phone, that was as tautly strung as a tightrope. Practicing the art of funambulism I traveled along this rope all the way to my cell phone, keeping my eyes straight ahead lest I look over the edge and see my children in various stages of murder and mayhem crying out for dear mother to save them. “Mummy!”
Caller ID showed that my son had placed three calls to me in the last five minutes. My mind was reasoning that these were merely pocket dials that he hadn’t intended to make, but my heart was racing. I phoned him back and he answered on the second ring; a flat tire with no jack; he found the jack; no need to come, sorry for waking you Ma.
I wanted to tell him that I was relieved that he was alive! and that he can call me anytime and I’d be there…no matter what or where, and that I missed him because he’s been working so much lately and that I hate that he won’t be here for Thanksgiving because of it. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug him so closely that I’d never forget how it felt, but instead I calmly said, “Okay son; I love you.” and then I disconnected.
