My mom has a problem. Maybe it’s a motherly thing, where in conversations you let your daughter go on and on about her trip to London and Italy and then her weekend plans (to DC! For Tom’s nephew’s second birthday) and when she finally asks you how you’re doing, time is running short and you can’t say much so you just nod, “Fine, fine, everything’s good,” and then your daughter, being satisfied that she’s caught her mother up on her life and, it seems, vice versa, decides there really isn’t anything else to say so you both happily hang up.
Except my parents are now in Canada. They arrived on Wednesday, and I last spoke to my mother on Tuesday evening. Yes, I talked a lot. But there was plenty of time for her to pop in – especially when I asked, “What are you guys up to?” – and say, “We are going to Canada tomorrow for a week!” rather than what she said:
“Oh, just getting ready for dinner.”
So instead of knowing that my parents were in Canada, I assumed that they were at home in California and thought, like a good daughter, “Well, I talked to mom but haven’t talked to dad so I ought to give him a ring.” (Thought, actually, like a middle-aged British dude).
So on Wednesday I called my dad. He picked up but I couldn’t hear him.
And then I called again, and could sort of hear him, but not really, and then he hung up or the connection was lost.
He’s probably with friends or driving, I thought, I’ll call him in the evening if he doesn’t call me back first, because my dad is good about things like that.
My dad did not call me back. So, at 8PM I called him.
“WE’RE IN CANADA!” he bellowed, “IS IT IMPORTANT? MY PHONE IS ALMOST OUT OF BATTERY!”
“Oh,” I said, startled, “What’re you doing in Canada?”
“IS IT IMPORTANT?”
“No, no, I just…”
“OKAY I’M GOING TO HANG UP NOW BYE-BYE.”
“Talk soon,” I said, but he had already hung up.
Anyway, happy Friday, everyone. I hope you have a great weekend as my parents will, in Canada.