I miss his voice

My husband had been gone for a little over a month, and the adrenaline shock was wearing off. No longer was I frantically finding “his” chores to do around the house. I had become lethargic and depressed, feeling lost and alone.

A few days into my slump, unable to sleep and feeling distraught, I got up in the early morning hours. I fixed a cup of coffee and landed on the living room couch and I began to cry. And pray. And beg. “God, I miss him. Does he miss me? Can he see me? I need him to see me.” I was inconsolable. I don’t even know if that prayer made any sense, but I was being honest in expressing what I needed. I’m not sure how long I spent pleading, but eventually I went on with my day.

In the afternoon, bored, and scrolling through the internet, I decided to shop a bit at Target. I was looking at sales, etc. when a coffee mug popped up on the screen. Boldly printed on the side of that cup were the words, “Hey there Pretty Lady.” I literally laughed out loud. That phrase is exactly how my husband answered his cell phone many times when I called him.

It seemed like a direct answer to my prayer, a little kiss from God.

I could have designed and ordered that mug from the internet. I could have, but I didn’t. I didn’t even know it was what I needed until I saw it. It was just there… waiting for me to find it on the day I needed to find it.

I bought three of them.

I always told my husband he “got points” for answering his phone that way. He was good about calling and texting, but he seldom left a voicemail. I’ve searched my phone over and over, looking for a trail, but no; only a few unintended “pocket calls.”

I dial his phone every once in awhile just to listen to his impersonal phone greeting.

I miss his voice.

I miss his “hey there pretty lady.”

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