The true-story sequel to an earlier post.
"Doodley-doo-doo... doodle, doodle doodle doo..." Cell phone rings.
Some out of state area code. I push the phone away.
A gear catches in my brain, or maybe in my heart.
I reach for the annoying plastic object that seeks to interrupt my life.
"Hey! Remember me?"
Pause. I shift my feet and knit my eyebrows, reaching for another fork to wash.
"Help me remember... where did we meet?"
"It's Talina! Don't you remember?" Her voice sounds tired.
Memories flood back. I drop the fork.
"Talina, this is a different number. Are you still in Washington?"
"No, I'm down here in Arizona now."
I want to ask about the baby, but I'm scared. In Washington state abortions are legal beyond the first trimester. I know she changed her mind after that first phone call, but I know she may have changed her mind again. Pregnancy swirls emotions into a confusing heap, after all. I know her husband divorced her after he found out she was expecting. I know she wanted to be a nurse, and thought a baby would change her plans. I know she had trouble finding a roommate, and had to move three times in three months. What I don't know is what has happened in the six months between then and now.
"I had the baby last week!"
"I'm so excited for you! Was it a little boy, like you wanted?"
"Nope. A girl. And she's beautiful. I just want to look at her all day long."
I hear about her barely-made-it-to-the-hospital birth story. I hear about her mom's sweet obsession with her first granddaughter. I hear about her sleepless nights and sleepy days.
At the end of our chat, my little phone receives a picture text message. In the picture is a tiny girl with dark, curly hair. Her white dress and trusting brown eyes capture me.
"But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness." Psalm 86:15.
Now I know the rest of the story. But I suppose this is not the rest. It is only the beginning.