The Unanswered Call
A ringing summons
Who misses more
From which side of the chasm
Is the message more
From the sender
Abyss in the interim
~Ellen Apple 10-16-2014
Apple (Roger, the calm - the gentle - the artist ) has been feeling under the weather for a few days, and I in my own way have been very concerned. From the time we met his essence was the perfect shape to fit the void in my life, his grounded ways and creative flights of fancy were just what my own oddities needed as a counter balance. We have been pretty much inseparable for over 13 years, and have created a reality for ourselves here on the creek by the river that suits us well. When he is not feeling well, I become very concerned.
I worked last evening, and about half an hour before I was to clock out and come home, I called the house to see if there was anything he needed, some tidbit to tantalize his taste buds, a craving for food or drink that was not on hand here at the house.
I called, the phone rang ten times and went to voicemail. I hung up, redialled, no answer again.
When I got home, he was sound asleep, resting well, the cats spread across his body like extra furry little space heaters. The phone was in the floor, I am sure pushed there by Smokie, who has loved the act of clearing tables since she was a wee thing. The back had popped off, and the battery connection jarred loose. Dead phone. That was why he did not answer.
He was fine, and I was relieved. This small poem was written as I contemplated missed calls.
I hope your day is well.