Missed Calls of the Heart

He used to sit here. That is how emptiness feels

Hey Friend,

I had my own 18 missed calls too, at three in the morning. It should always be three. Remember the song, "It's three in the morning, you're nowhere in sight"? Oh yeah, its aptly titled Some Good Things Never Last. 

It should be 3 am. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, it is called Vigils, the first prayer hour after midnight, when the faithful gather together to wait for the New Day. The bell rings at 3am in most monasteries-- to wake the monks up so that they can prepare for a new day.  They believed that the time to prepare is not when light appears, it is during the last hours of darkness.

See, it should be at 3 am.

But I digress.

I had my own 18 missed calls too, although they were not literally missed calls. But I had those moments of awakening when the truth reveals itself. Like fire, the truth always finds a way of burning through the lies, pretensions and our own illusions. 

Mine came not as a missed call, it was a missent message. It said "babes, please  prepare my favorite T-bone well done. Coming over tonight." We didn't call each other babes, and I don't cook at all, how much more dish out a steak. So, me, being Rain, I bought an Angus T-bone, and burned it in the grill to charcoal, forced him to eat it because he didn't have a choice. I poured some red wine , drank it, and gave him ten minutes to move out from home and disappear from my life.

When the anger dissipated, and the self-pity was consumed dry, gratitude floats like a fresh butterfly from a dark cocoon. I was thankful for the moment of discovery. It always arrives at just the right time.

When truth is revealed, hope is not lost but liberated -- to seek for a future full of joy that is truly ours.

Be thankful for the missed calls, and to the one who made them. They were your wake up calls.