I never expected a call at my desk at 3:00 PM.
Of course I picked up immediately. I had been worried about you. Sometimes I reach out knowing my messages may never be answered, but this time was different.
You told me you got my voicemails. You heard me. What a quiet, beautiful surprise.
You live states away now. You’ve built a life of your own. A different world from the one we once shared.
And somehow, I’m okay with that.
You told me you haven’t been doing the greatest lately. Melancholy, like me. What you didn’t know was that I’ve finally started taking care of myself again this week. When I told you, I could hear the relief in your voice.
Then you said something that stayed with me.
“I’ve been praying for both of us.”
And I believed you.
Not because I think life is a movie. Not because I’m waiting for some dramatic reunion years from now. But because, for a moment, I felt genuinely loved by someone who once knew me deeply.
Not possession. Just care.
The kind that asks nothing from you.
We told each other “I love you” before hanging up. Not as a confession. More like an acknowledgment of history. Of surviving time. Of becoming strangers who still somehow recognize each other’s souls.
I used to think love only mattered if it became something permanent.
Now I’m starting to think some people enter your life simply to remind you that your heart still works.