Lifeline

After daylight falls down and room light comes up I become transfixed by it, perhaps obsessed with it. Such a slender wire bending to Newton’s gravity in its own special way. Frequently swaying and stretching when I try to force it into action – to no avail. But, for now, during the evening and twilight hours it’s all I have to reach you with touch you with and say “I love you” with. A complex instrument of Man, a wonderful gift from God, a Telephone – our Lifeline. It reflects my stare countless times a day. It feels my hand often at night. I gingerly pick it up hoping to hear your voice, instead a single, lonely tone rushes through. Sometimes the sound seems different than it is and I imagine hearing pale pleadings for “Help” from you. Other times I fantasize the tone to be saying, “I love you,” as clearly as from your own lips. It’s only after the phone actually rings and I pounce on it like a big jungle cat, that I can regain my composure and let you pull me out of the twilight zone I too often place myself within. Hearing your voice for those few precious minutes each evening of the week cools my nerves and soothes my quivering heart for yet another day to come when again I’ll be reaching for the Lifeline. 6/29/86