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Three Phone Calls

November 1, 2012

My phone rings.


“Hi dad.”

“Hi Mason. What’s up?” *noise in the background of a screaming child*

“We’re not going Trick-or-Treat.”

“Why not?”

“Sissy won’t take a bath. She’s bad.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So we can’t go trick-or-treat.”

“Do you want to do something instead?”

“Yes. Bye.”


A moment later the phone rings again.

“Hi dad.”

“Hey Mason.”

“I fergot to tell you, you need to pick up baked beans from Winn Dixie, okay.”

“Okay little buddy.”

“Momma spilled fabic softsner all over her. And I lost my jacket. Not the one with writing on it. The plain one.”

“Don’t worry little man, we’ll find it.”

“Don’t ferget to pick up the baked beans. We had a bad day.”

“Okay, I won’t.”


A moment later the phone rings for the third and last time.

“I forgot to tell you I loved you before you hung up dad.”


“Why did you hang up?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you did.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you I love you.”

“Sorry buddy.”

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay, bye.”


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