Chances Are Good

Photo by jam343

Somewhere between panic-stricken and sleep-deprived, compromise was found. A shallow sleep arrived when I clung to the idea that there would be other chances; that sooner or later, he would call again. Turns out, sooner or later happened in less than two hours.

When I picked up his call, my mind was still fuzzy from almost dreaming. On his end, his voice was unsure, as if he'd anticipated another conversation with my voicemail. It took us a moment, but together, we found our beat.

In 26 minutes and 17 seconds, he told me that he’d been separated from his company because he was selected with two others to take MRAP classes. Leaving his platoon ultimately gave him more opportune moments to call. Although I’d hoped my intuition was wrong, he also confirmed that weekends do not exist for soldiers—their efforts are ongoing. He continued, describing the lack of privacy, how he wouldn’t have a room of his own as he’d thought, that he’d most likely occupy a tent with nine others. On my side of the world I was lost in his words, listening to his sounds, remembering, memorizing, smiling, missing, relishing . . .

Chris was rushed off the phone. His 30-minute allowance was cut short because of the volume of soldiers waiting to place calls. Our goodbyes were hurried, but I am thankful. There would be no goodbye without a hello. I was given a fifth chance this morning and those don’t happen everyday.