Arriving home to an empty apartment last night was pretty depressing. Then the calls started coming in. "S" just wanted to make sure that I wasn't too sad. "A" dialed me because she knew I would need a cheer up.
I'm so grateful for my friends
who truly care about me. But
when I'm at my lowest, I find
myself wishing Mom could call.
It's odd given that Ethel drove
me wild with her constant calls.
Now that she's gone, I long for
the soothing sound of her voice.
Whenever I missed a call or wasn't home when Mother dialed she immediately assumed the worse. Always on the verge of calling the police, she was certain that I was "dead on the side of the road."
All my Mother really wanted was a brief check-in. Confirmation that the ride home had been completed and that I was safe in my bed. Yet for some odd reason I was still a rebellious child, even into my fifties. Why did I have to prove my independence rather than simply be appreciative? It all seems so silly now. You see, one day they're gone and they never call again.
As soon as that happens you realize just how important those calls really were.
If you still can, PLEASE CALL YOUR MOTHER NOW!
