Love Mails

– Jordan, who are you talking to?
– Grandma.
– It’s 6:30 in the morning!
– That’s ok, Dad. She’s an early bird like us.
– Jordan, that’s too early to call people.
– Dad, I’m on the phone.
This is how it goes now. But there are plentiful benefits. Nearly every day she calls me at work. I don’t carry my phone around with me much, so I return to my desk to find new voice mails from her. They are breathy, and affectionate, and absolutely sincere. She practices her own phone protocol, which usually includes a moment of song. She called me yesterday and sang a few bars from Hernando’s Hideaway. In the background, I could hear Luc admonishing her.
– Jordan, that’s too long of a message.
– (in song) I know … a dark … secluded place …
– (still in key) a place … where no … one knows your face
My voice mail box is reaching capacity because I refuse to delete these little love mails. She sprinkles each with poignant observations and heartfelt salutations. Her optimism and charm gush through, and even my worst day feels bright when I listen to these. Many of our friends and family have received their own doses. Which makes me think that perhaps this really is the best gift I’ve ever given.