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One phone call

December 18th, 2006 by Wen

Life sometimes changes with one phone call. When the words come over the line that marks time from that moment forward.

Other phone calls are equally life changing. At the time, though, you simply don’t know that your life is going to change forever with that one phone call. You have no idea that one simple phone call will open the door to a world more beautiful, more full, more real than the one you live in now.

One phone call.

It leads to an evening of talking, of opening yourself to possibility. It leads to a kiss.

And a second phone call. A second date. And the idea that you might really like this guy.

Another phone call, this time from farther away.

And you stand in the driveway, closing the phone as you say good night. You stand there on a cold Christmas night listening to the snow as it starts to fall. Every year since you’ve been on your own you’ve stood outside alone on Christmas Eve listening to a peaceful silence. This year you say thank you. And you make a wish.

Another call and the dawn of a new year. You’re fighting now. A cold and your fear. You’re not sure if your Christmas wish is going to come true after all.

More calls. More kindnesses. Almost always there is laughter in those calls.

Months pass, and everyday a call comes. Even if you’ve seen him just a few hours before.

You’re together now in an elevator. And you very quietly say “I Love You”. It slipped out. You didn’t mean to say it, but you did. He didn’t hear you, or he’s pretending he didn’t hear you. Either way you feel like you dodged a bullet.

But.

You meant it.

More calls. This time from farther away. You meet somewhere beautiful and hot. He’s tired, but he’s always happy to see you. And you miss him when you go home.

You call everyday.

Somewhere in between all those calls you realize you’re changing. Lines you drew in the sand have disappeared. So many of the walls you’ve built to protect yourself have slipped away. Rather than fight you just change your mind. You’re beginning to see the whole rather than just your part in it.

A year has passed. It’s the hardest year for you yet. It’s also the happiest. A card comes with the words you’ve been wanting to hear. And then he says it to you. You knew he felt that way. But now. Now you really know.

Another late silent Christmas Eve. You’re outside again, alone in your little ritual. He’s coming in a few days. You are happy.

More phone calls. You can talk on the phone like you talk in person. Hours can go by just laughing. He’s only eight miles away, but you still want to hear his voice before you go to sleep.

Your job doesn’t let you spend as much time with him as you would like. The day it ends he gets a phone call that will take him away for a few months. It’s always that way.

Your calls to each other describe the days. You meet again somewhere beautiful and hot. You miss him more this time.

He’s home now and you’re back at work. The hours aren’t as brutal. You still spend hours on the phone talking. And laughing.

Another call comes and he’s gone again, this time to some place cold. He calls every afternoon, after he’s woken up from a hard night of work. Those calls are the highlight of your day. You make him some things to keep his head and hands warm. And his heart.

You have more time to think between those phone calls.

You realize that you have become softer now, more vulnerable. Your life went in a new direction. Your capacity to give, to forgive, to laugh, to share your dreams and your fears has grown in ways you never imagined. You have become a better person by falling in love with him.

This Christmas Eve will be different. As you stand outside in the cold and quiet night you will again listen to the silence. And you will again say thank you. The difference is this year there won’t be wishes.

Instead, you will go inside where it’s warm and bright. He’s waiting there for you to come to bed. You will step inside and turn off the lights. You will curl up beside him and snuggle into the warmth and comfort of this man, and you will know.

You will know that picking up the phone that day led you to what you had been looking for all along.

You won’t need to make any more wishes. He is already here.

2 Responses to “One phone call”

on 18 Dec 2006 at 9:50 pm kristen

*sniff* Aw, yup.
on 19 Dec 2006 at 8:45 pm warcrygirl

Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. During our first two years of marriage Hubby was working “on his tools”; a electrical journeyman who was gone during the week and sometimes the weekends. I remember those phone calls all two well.

Merry Christmas, Wen.

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One phone call

2 Responses to “One phone call”

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