I spent my entire Saturday in a meeting with 17 others seated around a table in horse-shoe configuration, an open meeting, lots of discussion, debating, note-taking. We all want the same thing, but which road to take is a slightly different story.
By the time it's all over, and I'm back in my hotel room, I am drained, alone and wishing to be at home.
When my cell phone rings, I cannot be bothered to get up and see who it is, much less consider answering it. Real life doesn't afford me such behavior though, and since the beep signifies a message was left, I do bother to pay attention. It could be important.
A life ring.
Hey, I'm glad you didn't answer your phone because I'm really just calling to leave you a message. I love you. I have no idea where you are, but wherever you are in the world right now, I want you to know that I love you.
I listen again, then set the phone down. His voice and his message soothe me, give me warmth and connection, remind me that my heart is alive.
He's done this before, answered a call I'd not outwardly made. I've never asked him how it is that he knows when I need him, what tells him to pick up the phone and dial. I don't want to know. To me, it would be like learning the science behind art. It would change the magic.