For years I called Mom and Dad every Sunday night at 9:00, 10:00 their time. It fit in with their TV schedule, and it let me keep track of them, and let me catch them up on any good family news I had. Of course as my daughters will testify, I practically never know any family news before they do.
When I called, Mom would get on one phone and Dad would run into the bedroom and get on the other. If I was late they’d wonder where I was and if I was early they’d just turn off the TV. Mom and Dad had their priorities straight.
I explained what unlimited long distance meant to Mom a dozen times, but every Sunday night she’d want to hang up after five or ten minutes to save my phone bill. Sometimes we barely had five minutes of news to talk about and other times we would shoot the breeze for almost an hour. It was certainly one of the high points of my week and I hope it was one of theirs.
Every Sunday night I feel a little lost when 9:00 rolls around. I wish I’d called more often. I wish I’d talked longer. I miss them every day, but especially on Sunday nights.