This is the second in a collection seemingly mundane events that proved that, for a time, life was deliciously normal. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just life. Normal life. You can read the first entry here.
A year ago today I hit No. 2 on speed dial as I walked toward my van after school.
It was 4 o'clock. The bus had dropped off Addie 15 minutes earlier and I liked to think she was waiting for my call. She probably wasn't. Too busy catching up on one of the shows she'd DVR'd or fiddling with the iPad.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hey, Ad. How was your day?"
This is where I envision her pressing pause on the remote and humoring me with the same conversation we'd have each and every day.
"What was your favorite part?"
"Ummm," she'd pause, taking a lick of the cream filling inside her Golden Oreo. "Probably math."
"Yeah, what did you do?"
"We played this review game."
Like clockwork, I'd find myself rounding the first curve south of Eagle and I knew our conversation would soon come to an end.
"OK, Ad. I'll be home in about 15 minutes. Love you."
"Love you too."
And that was pretty much it.
Five minutes of the exact same conversation day-in and day-out.
Five minutes of nothing.