November 24, 2001 ~ Missing Crumbs

When we got home yesterday, Morgan checked the phone messages. "Melissa, there are three for you." He handed me the phone. I had been expecting a few. Leave for a trip on your birthday and over Thanksgiving and there are bound to be phone messages waiting when you get back. One was my mother, wishing me a happy birthday. But the second and third...

Dad. I had missed a call from my Dad. Two calls, actually.

It's been a few months since I last heard from him. Last summer I think. Probably July.

He said in the message that he has been pretty sick, but he's getting better, and he asked me to call him back sometime.

But he didn't leave a number.

So tonight I skeptically called the old number that I had for him, and, sure enough, "the number you have reached is unavailable." But the computerized voice offered to take a message. So I left a message, on the off chance that it would somehow get to Dad.

If anybody out there knows Keith L. Ray (probably somewhere in Washington State), let him know that his daughter Melissa tried to call him back.

Sometimes I grow very weary of this trail of breadcrumbs that he has left.





Footnotes:

weather: Cool, rainy.

bookmarked: Catching up on diaries and journals.

writing focus: Not yet.

observation: The cloud cover today looks like snow clouds, but it's not cold enough for that.

mood: Contemplative.

journal land:

"Also at Edgemont: two opposing long coal trains (~100 cars each) stopped on adjacent tracks with their engines side-by-side on top of the long trestle across the river just east of town. Why? Do the crews trade off so nobody has to sleep out of their home town? Was this a late lunch? ("Excuse me, do you have any Grey Poupon?") I've seen pickups stopped along our highways visiting this way ("networking", western style), but never huge coal trains."

~ Grouse in this entry of Grousin' in the Sage.



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