Who's filling in?
In the world of correspondence, there are always loose ends. And leaving loose ends while gone on vacation does not go over well.
So it went when one of my frequent callers asked me who was filling in for me while I was gone.
Filling in? I told him that there wouldn't be anyone, that pretty much everything I left would be waiting for me when I got back.
"But who shall I call?"
For one brief moment I considered who there might be who would not curse the day they befriended me if I gave out their name. And then I realized that there is no one I have achieved that level of friendship with. The good news is that I also realized there is no one who has made me enough of an enemy either.
Two weeks, Frequent Caller, two weeks.
And then it is that I start a quiet list of everything I will not miss while I vacation by the sea.
Perhaps the list is quiet now, but there may be a day, on the crystal green shores of Brazil where I will shout in relief that the phone does not ring for me.
And oh, hasten that day! For otherwise I may find myself calling that me in that big glass building on the hill, and I will sound just as desperate as any of my frequent callers, hoping to gain strength from the stranger on the other end.
And who will fill in then?
So it went when one of my frequent callers asked me who was filling in for me while I was gone.
Filling in? I told him that there wouldn't be anyone, that pretty much everything I left would be waiting for me when I got back.
"But who shall I call?"
For one brief moment I considered who there might be who would not curse the day they befriended me if I gave out their name. And then I realized that there is no one I have achieved that level of friendship with. The good news is that I also realized there is no one who has made me enough of an enemy either.
Two weeks, Frequent Caller, two weeks.
And then it is that I start a quiet list of everything I will not miss while I vacation by the sea.
Perhaps the list is quiet now, but there may be a day, on the crystal green shores of Brazil where I will shout in relief that the phone does not ring for me.
And oh, hasten that day! For otherwise I may find myself calling that me in that big glass building on the hill, and I will sound just as desperate as any of my frequent callers, hoping to gain strength from the stranger on the other end.
And who will fill in then?
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