Rocky is 24-years-old, handsome, popular with his friends, successful in grad school, and I can see him maturing into a wonderful man right before my eyes. Well, right before my eyes from far, far away.
You see, Rocky calls home to talk to me every single day. He did this all the way through undergrad. He did it the four years he had a girlfriend. He does it now. There are days every so often when he doesn’t call, but those are few and far between.
He doesn’t call because he’s homesick or lonely. We’ve just always been very close. We’re confidantes. He’s always told me pretty much everything. I mean, I’m no fool – I know he doesn’t tell me EVERYTHING, but you’d be surprised at the things he DOES share. Sometimes I’m a bit horrified. But thankful. So thankful.
Daisy, our senior in high school, will probably be much the same. I don’t envision her calling every single day, but she likes to keep in touch. We are close and she breaks all the rules, chatting with me on Skype during class at the public high school, picking on me over Facebook, leaving ridiculous comments on my photos. She always makes me laugh. She will call her mama when she’s gone.
Petunia, however, is now far, far away like her brother, and she does not call. At. All. When I call her, she answers me in one-to-two word sentences and she is always the one who decides when it’s time to end the call. If I text her, she usually replies, but not always. If I try to chat with her on Skype, she may or may not respond. She keeps me guessing, so guess which child I worry about?
The really funny thing is that Rocky can’t, for the life of him, figure out why Petunia isn’t calling home every day.
That makes me smile big.