Monday, March 14, 2011
a full inbox and heart
like the one from robert in april 2009, on my birthday weekend in charlotte. calling with a funny joke, told only in a way that robert can. i hear that 90-second tidbit, and i go back to that beautiful hotel room. the white water rapids. the rock climbing wall where i thought i very well might die, but resulted in the most fabulous zip line ever. it's a gorgeous memory, saved on my silver bit of plastic.
or the calls from my sister and mama, inviting me to go for a walk. the ones from my dad, who hates the phone. for him to call, let alone leave a message, is special to me, and worthy of being saved. i erased a message from one of my good friends once. she passed away in a car accident a few months later, and i'd give anything to hear her voice again.
so i've kept them. and i know i can get one of those recorders and transfer them, so i can save them forever. but right now, i like having them close. it's instant comfort.
just like the people who left them. only a phone call away.