Blast from the Past
last night at 122 am Chad's cell phone rings. I thought it was part of a dream I was having, until his voicemail song starts to play. He gets up, and goes out into the hallway to listen to the voicemail. He comes back into the bedroom, and I ask who that was. "A message from someone we haven't heard from in a long time." Patrick. He's apparently leaving for Iraq tomorrow and wanted to say god bless us, or something.
I couldn't go back to sleep after he called. Should I call him back? As bad a taste as he left in my mouth, he's going to Iraq, and his wife's pregnant, if not already had the baby. He's going to miss that childn't first year. I'm a compassionate person, and although our last conversation ended in F-U's and slamming phones, that doesn't mean that I don't care for him. Should I call him later, and wish him well in the sandbox?
I couldn't go back to sleep after he called. Should I call him back? As bad a taste as he left in my mouth, he's going to Iraq, and his wife's pregnant, if not already had the baby. He's going to miss that childn't first year. I'm a compassionate person, and although our last conversation ended in F-U's and slamming phones, that doesn't mean that I don't care for him. Should I call him later, and wish him well in the sandbox?