"It's been a year".
Fortune favors the bold, something like that. I thought about it last night, this morning when I woke and while I walked along the boulevard: that long overdue phone call to you. It got to the point where I was long past thinking about it, it was time to do something about it, so I stopped, got out my phone and dialed your school. I heard that you were going to be there today, a 50/50 chance I would catch you on the phone. No coffee in me to accelerate my heart rate, no qualms or quarrels about right or wrong. I was calling to hear your voice, to find out if you were okay, to find out that if I called you that I wouldn't be hung up on.
Too bad we only had a moment, that the door to your office was open and that I was completely and totally self concious about calling you. After all that agonizing it was a quick call after all. I took up only a few minutes of your time, a cursory overview of life, of the The Boy and school and old managers. But, you know, I was happy with that. We could have talked about trash pickup, bus schedules and gum on the bottom of our shoes and it would have been alright with me. Sort of like that scene in Monsters Inc when Mike finds out he's on the cover of a magazine. Doesn't matter that his face is plastered over with a barcode, he made the cover. It didn't matter that all I had was that moment. I heard your voice. It was the relative proximity to you that mattered, not the distance, not the content. Needless to say I was thrilled.
SO, all the unasked questions. I wouldn't have right of me to take up your time with questions, to force intimacy, to pretend like I was part of your life. Instead I stand by the side of the parade and watch you pass and wonder how you are, about everyday things, like how you're feeling, what's coming up for you this summer, how your garden grows. After I got off the phone I wanted to know if you were planning on catching The Time Traveler's Wife, if you planted your dahlias yet, if you've planned a big trip to see your sisters. I wondered about your job and what you've read lately and if you've made anything interesting in your kitchen this last week. I wanted to ask you if you've made plans for the 4th and how my little pal was doing with school and if you were happy. I wanted to find out all about your dad and your heart and what's on your mind but I knew that I couldn't take up your time, that I couldn't hang you up on the phone, because I knew that your time was not my time anymore.
But one thing is for certain and that is that I found my way through the maze and past the obstacles of life to you once again, found my way around the springloaded traps, past the tempting cheese to a doorway in. I found a way over and through the course of a year back to you. Back to your voice. And love, it was brief but you gave me one small touch, a nod toward our old times, a brief glimmer of your old love for me. What was it exactly you said? Something to the effect that you were wondering when we would run into each other again. You didn't tell me to drop dead, you didn't tell me never to call you again, no, you wondered when we would see each other.
I wonder, too. Till then, professora.
Your WHMB
Fortune favors the bold, something like that. I thought about it last night, this morning when I woke and while I walked along the boulevard: that long overdue phone call to you. It got to the point where I was long past thinking about it, it was time to do something about it, so I stopped, got out my phone and dialed your school. I heard that you were going to be there today, a 50/50 chance I would catch you on the phone. No coffee in me to accelerate my heart rate, no qualms or quarrels about right or wrong. I was calling to hear your voice, to find out if you were okay, to find out that if I called you that I wouldn't be hung up on.
Too bad we only had a moment, that the door to your office was open and that I was completely and totally self concious about calling you. After all that agonizing it was a quick call after all. I took up only a few minutes of your time, a cursory overview of life, of the The Boy and school and old managers. But, you know, I was happy with that. We could have talked about trash pickup, bus schedules and gum on the bottom of our shoes and it would have been alright with me. Sort of like that scene in Monsters Inc when Mike finds out he's on the cover of a magazine. Doesn't matter that his face is plastered over with a barcode, he made the cover. It didn't matter that all I had was that moment. I heard your voice. It was the relative proximity to you that mattered, not the distance, not the content. Needless to say I was thrilled.
SO, all the unasked questions. I wouldn't have right of me to take up your time with questions, to force intimacy, to pretend like I was part of your life. Instead I stand by the side of the parade and watch you pass and wonder how you are, about everyday things, like how you're feeling, what's coming up for you this summer, how your garden grows. After I got off the phone I wanted to know if you were planning on catching The Time Traveler's Wife, if you planted your dahlias yet, if you've planned a big trip to see your sisters. I wondered about your job and what you've read lately and if you've made anything interesting in your kitchen this last week. I wanted to ask you if you've made plans for the 4th and how my little pal was doing with school and if you were happy. I wanted to find out all about your dad and your heart and what's on your mind but I knew that I couldn't take up your time, that I couldn't hang you up on the phone, because I knew that your time was not my time anymore.
But one thing is for certain and that is that I found my way through the maze and past the obstacles of life to you once again, found my way around the springloaded traps, past the tempting cheese to a doorway in. I found a way over and through the course of a year back to you. Back to your voice. And love, it was brief but you gave me one small touch, a nod toward our old times, a brief glimmer of your old love for me. What was it exactly you said? Something to the effect that you were wondering when we would run into each other again. You didn't tell me to drop dead, you didn't tell me never to call you again, no, you wondered when we would see each other.
I wonder, too. Till then, professora.
Your WHMB
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