Distance calling

February 17th, 2008

My parents called one night last week. It was late and I’d been sleeping.

First, my mom got on the line. I recognized her right away although she sounded old and frail. It was so good to hear her.

“We’re coming out,” she said. I understood that she and dad were getting in the car and starting to drive all the way from Texas to California.

“It will take awhile,” she said, “because we have to stop at the pharmacies.”

Somehow that made sense to me. Then my dad spoke.

“Hi honey.” I could tell he was smiling in his weary way. “Are you sure you want us to come?”

I was remembering all this the next day when I drove down Santa Anita Avenue and I saw an old man in the crosswalk. He was stoop shouldered. The breeze made his white hair flare out behind his ears like wings. From the back, he looked exactly like my dad, who died two years ago. Mom went first; soon it will be seven years.

Here’s the thing: I said yes. I really do want them to come, and they’re on their way.

Dreams are not dreams, you know. They are no more dreams than any other dreams we live while we’re awake.

I’m dreaming with my eyes wide open. And I’m watching for what comes.


  1. Even the veil is an illusion.

    Comment by Jena Strong — February 17, 2008 @ 3:58 pm

  2. Thank you for sharing such a clear, brilliant seeing. The air in this rooms seems a bit brighter and clearer.


    Comment by Chris Austin-Lane — February 17, 2008 @ 4:50 pm

  3. what a beautiful vision. There is a great deal of love in this story.

    Comment by Lisa — February 17, 2008 @ 6:45 pm

  4. Wow.

    Comment by Shelli — February 17, 2008 @ 7:42 pm

  5. It is nice every now and then to speak to the dead.

    Comment by Mika — February 18, 2008 @ 12:26 am

  6. Thanks for the reminder.

    I’ve been too tired to dream lately (or that is what I figure), and miss them.

    Comment by denise — February 18, 2008 @ 5:03 am

  7. When I dream of my mom she is alive and in hiding, and all I have to do is figure out some lost clue, and she’ll be able to come back. I suppose one could read a lot into that…I guess more wishful thinking is allowed in dreamland.

    Comment by marta — February 18, 2008 @ 5:07 am

  8. This hit me pretty hard. My mom is very ill, and I keep dreaming that I’m searching for her.

    Comment by Mama Zen — February 18, 2008 @ 1:26 pm

  9. This post resonates with me since both my parents have been gone for a long time and I’d love them to show up whenever. Dad passed in February of 1976 and Mom in March of 1989 … but sometimes I anticipate a visit from one or both myself. Thanks for sharing and enjoy being chauffeur to those giggling girls today.
    Hugs and blessings,

    Comment by storyteller — February 19, 2008 @ 4:01 pm

  10. What a beautiful post.

    Comment by shauna — February 20, 2008 @ 10:37 pm

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