When the phone rang this morning, for a quick second my inner voice said, “It’s her.” Simultaneously, while that little voice was matter-of-factly informing me of who was ringing my telephone, reality rang through my head like a 3-alarm fire telling me to snap out of it.
Of course it’s not her.
It’s odd how I don’t miss her as much on the typical milestone or landmark days like birthdays, anniversaries, or Christmas. It happens when I’m caught off guard; on just any ole’ ordinary days.
We’ve had a lot of rain here the last few days. It’s actually been quite extreme. I guess this is why my subconscious told me it was her on the phone at 0 dark thirty this morning.
I can’t quit thinking of her.
She was the granddaughter, daughter, and wife of a farmer. For 3 generations her livelihood revolved around rainfall, late frosts, early freezes, and hail. When it rains, I think of her.
She never went to bed without getting the weather report first. For 40 years I could predict her nights like clockwork:
9:00 p.m. Take a bath
9:30 p.m. One last clean up in the kitchen before bed
10:00 p.m. Local News & Weather
10:30 p.m. The Tonight Show
All my life, no matter where I was living, I would randomly get calls from her at 10:30 p.m., “Just wanted you to know that there’s some weather coming your way tomorrow. I’ll be worrying about you, so be careful.” Or, I would get a call in the morning: “Heard y’all had some weather last night. Just wanted to call to hear your little voice and be sure you're okay.”
I sure do miss her.