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She picks up the phone,
and holds it in her hand, looking for the face of her son in the rounded receiver, even though she hasn't made the call. She searches for him where he isn't, wishing that he was still playing in the grass of the yard. Remembering the way his toys used to lie strewn across the carpet. Remembering the way she said he had to pick up his Transformers, because otherwise people might step on them, and get hurt. She stared into the empty receiver, silent, as if crickets might chirp in the background, but there was noone there. Her children were gone. Her son was too busy working on his career to want to talk and would only say hi every 3 weeks. Perhaps it would be better, after she retired. But for now, she could only spend time with her husband, the two missing their children together and waiting for their calls. |