My oldest daughter has inherited her dad's outgoing personality and flair for the dramatic.Just as nature abhors a vacuum, so my daughter abhors silence. Every evening, as she’s getting off work, she dials me up on her cell phone so she’ll have someone to talk to and keep her company on the drive home. It’s a fun daily ritual for both of us.
So naturally, I’m always on the phone with her when she arrives at her house.
And three times out of five, this is what I hear (it happened again today):
...The jingle of her keys as she’s chattering away and getting out of her car.
...More cheerful chattering as she approaches her front door.
...Then, a sharp gasp, a whispered “Oh, no”, then an impossibly long silence, during which I frantically shriek, “Jamie! What happened? Are you okay? Are you okay?”
I always age about ten years while I wait for her to get past the dramatic pause and tell me what has happened.
In the countless times we’ve replayed this scenario, the gasp, the whispered “Oh, no”, and the long silence have meant everything from “My house has been robbed” to “My dogs have gotten out of the yard” to “The mailman gave me someone else’s mail”.
All of my gray hairs are her fault. I should have her wages garnished to pay for my Revlon Light Ash Brown #50.
