Late Night Phone Call

She calls when I am just 15 minutes into the show.  It used to be our show.  We would wait all week for Thursday nights, planning for it with excited giggles and imagined events.  When Thursday finally arrived, you would find us gathering snacks and blankets and fluffing up pillows, and then we would take over the couch and the remote control.  I love that she calls right at the moment I have queued up an old rerun of our old show.  It’s karmic. I hope.

I hit pause and answer the phone to hear her wild burst of laughter.  Laughter or hysterical crying? I’m not sure until I hear her voice saying, “Hi mom!”  My brief moment of concern is washed away and replaced by joy.

She tells me that her friends were all just laughing at something funny, reminiscing about their first words as babies.  A topic brought up by my face-book post of her baby brothers first word spoken just that day.  What was her first word? Oh, a four letter word referencing bowel elimination.  Yup.  That sent her off into more giggles and I could hear her friends in the background laughing along with her. They are not surprised, it is apparently still her word of choice, I hear them saying in the background.

It is good to laugh with her.  It is good to be on the phone with her, laughing.  She is my delight but things have been strained lately.  My life and choices, her life and choices, are  all at odds with each other and it’s been hard to find the closeness, the love, the fun, the groove of our hearts beating together as they once did.

We chat some and I avoid anything too tense.  I've written her a letter and she hasn't received it yet so I’ll save the tense stuff for later, tonight I want to just enjoy the laughter.

When we hang up, I start up the show again.  It’s lonelier now, watching this show without her here.  My bowl of snacks and my icy beverage aren't as good, un-shared as they are.  The show isn't as suspenseful without the whispered premonitions and our running commentary.  The theme song at the end makes me weepy and melodramatic.  I laugh at myself a little, do the dishes, and tuck myself into bed.  My daughter, 3000 miles and two time zones away from me is just getting into the groove of her night.  All is as it should be I suppose.