Home Is Where The Heart Is

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This old gal...

Was in the kitchen making a bedtime snack. Noticed she'd missed a call from that brother of hers—that pizza making brother of hers...

A call from his cell phone, which was odd, because he never uses his cell phone. If he calls, it's always from the pizza place he owns.

Thought, 'this must be serious, maybe an emergency,' so plopped on the bed and called him back. To which, of course, he didn't answer. Played phone tag a bit and then finally connected...

And it was serious—not an emergency—but serious enough, if he being bored can be considered serious. Like, seriously bored...

And so, for the next hour, we chatted. Some might call it gossiped. Talked about this. Talked about that. Our kids. Our grandkids. Who's in the obituaries. The dangers of kids on those motorized scooters.

We laughed about the past—the days of younger-us. Wading in Old Man's Creek. Playing on the banks under the bridge. Friends we grew up with. Friends we have lost.

And so it is...in life. Time zipping by. Miles keeping us from those we love. But something as simple as a phone call—an 'I'm bored and thought I'd give you a call' kind of phone call...is almost as good...as going home...

The only thing missing...is a piece of that delicious pizza of his...
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And those daughters of mine...would agree...