the end of an era

I had a Sunday night tradition for almost 18 years that came to an end about 6 months ago.

It's sad really.

Every Sunday night without fail.

Except for 18 months in Ecuador, of course.

Now it's over.

And I feel the loss.

Sunday nights just don't seem the same.

You see, when I left for BYU as a scared, curly haired Freshman, the tradition started. Every Sunday night I would call home and talk to my parents. My dad usually talked for 3 minutes and then I would talk to my mom for a long time about important stuff like class, boys, life, etc.

Every Sunday, without fail. Six years later the tradition had a minor hiccup when my Dad died. He didn't take his 3 minutes anymore, but the phone calls continued. They seemed a part of my normal life, like church on Sunday,the junk mail in the mailbox and the fact that I will never willingly eat an onion or green pepper.

Now they've stopped.

Of course my mom lives next door now.

So I see her almost every single day.

Most days we stand in the driveway and talk.

And it's all good.

But just the same, I miss our Sunday evening phone chats.

Approximately 916* phone calls, over 17 years 8 months is a hard habit to break.

*assuming my math is correct, which isn't that great of an assumption. Math never was my thang.

2 Comments

undefined:

I feel for you.
Love,
Me

undefined:

You can call me.

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