41 Days Down…690 Days to Go
Today is the day! I thought as I was getting ready for school. I hadn’t physically talked
to him in six weeks, and now I was going to hear his voice from the Salt Lake
City airport.
My brother is the sibling I
am closest to, and not just in age, although that probably helped a little.
Since the age gap between my two youngest sisters and me ranges from nine to
eleven years, and I fought with my closest-in-age sister so much to the point
of pure hatred while growing up, my brother was the only sibling I could truly
hang around with. He understood me in ways no one ever could, and sometimes
gave me advice on things I should have been giving him advice on. My brother is
currently serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
in Mexico. It was a tear-filled day when we dropped him off at the Missionary
Training Center in August. Since then, all communication has been via email.
But that wouldn’t be the case on this day.
I was anxious. I was
prepared. My family was prepared; my brother was to call my parents (who were
on a business trip/vacation in Hawaii) first, then me, then my sisters at home.
I had told my brother via email it didn’t matter what time he called—I was
going to tell my teachers that if I randomly jumped up and left the room, it
was because he was calling. I didn’t really care how the whole process went
down; I just wanted to hear my brother’s voice.
I got up to campus and waited
impatiently for my first teacher to show up so I could explain the situation to
him. I even explained it to the guy sitting next to me. Finally, finally, my teacher walked through the
door. I immediately stood up to go explain that my brother was leaving the MTC
that day and would be calling me from the airport, the only problem being I had
no idea exactly what time he would be calling. My teacher was very forgiving
and said to go ahead and leave if or when he called.
I sat in that class paying
more attention to my phone screen than the lesson. I knew the phone call most
likely wouldn’t come between the time of 7:45 and 8:45 in the morning, but I
wanted to be prepared just in case. I kept surreptitiously glancing at my
phone, looking for any sign that he had called. Eventually I changed my phone’s
settings from ‘silent’ to ‘vibrate’ and decided to hold it in my hand at all
times; I surely wouldn’t miss his call.
The day progressed much like
it did during my first class: I explained to my two remaining teachers the situation,
they were fine with me leaving for the call, and I stared at my phone in my
hands, waiting for the call to come. I was getting impatient. Both my mom and
my sister were texting me, asking if he had called. I kept asking my mom if he
had called her; she repeatedly and disappointedly said no. About halfway
through my last class of the day, I had given up hopes of talking to him that
morning, but still held out hope for his call to come from the airport in
Phoenix during his layover.
Then suddenly the screen on
my phone lit up. I excitedly looked down, not recognizing that my phone hadn’t
vibrated, and was instantly disappointed. My phone relayed the message to me
that I had a missed call and voicemail from a Utah phone number. My heart sank.
I had missed his call. I missed my
one and only shot to talk to my brother before Christmas. I leapt out of my
seat, most likely giving my teacher the illusion that my brother was calling,
and left the room. I immediately listened to the voicemail, hoping and praying
there would be another opportunity for me to actually talk to my brother.
My brother, still his normal
self regardless of being a missionary, told me I sucked for not answering his
call. I heard the words I was looking for: he would try calling during his
layover in Phoenix. I smiled just at the sound of his voice on a message. I
immediately tried calling the number his call came from. The first time I
tried, it rang for a while before it sounded like someone picked up, but there
was no one there. The second and subsequent times I tried, I got a busy signal.
Figuring he was on the phone with another member of my family, I went back to
my class.
I texted my mom and sister,
letting them know he had tried calling me but I missed it. My mom scolded me
for not having my phone on ringer mode, and I tried explaining that I had it on
vibrate but my phone didn’t show that he was calling; it immediately brought up
the screen saying I had missed the call. I have never hated the flaws of
technology more than in that moment.
I went about the rest of my
day after class got out. I turned my phone onto full ringer—there was no way I
would miss his call this time. I sat around my apartment like I usually do on
any normal day, furthering my master skills of procrastinating doing my
homework.
Hours passed, and I was
worried that I wouldn't even get a phone call from him while he was in Phoenix.
My mom had texted me saying he had talked to my Nana (as she was the caretaker
of my sisters while my parents were in Hawaii) and had called her. I had almost
lost hope; surely he had to be talking to my dad and then my sisters, and by
the time he would be done with them it would be time for him to fly to Mexico.
I still kept sight on my phone while working on other things, still kept it on
'ringer' mode, but mentally prepared myself to not be disappointed when he
didn't call.
I was in the middle of
working on something when I heard my phone ring. My heart leapt, and I ran to
go answer it. My phone told me that it was a Phoenix number calling me. This
was it! I answered excitedly, ready to talk to my only brother. The
biggest smile was on my face during the entire conversation, which wasn't much
of anything significant. I asked him how his past week in the MTC was and how
his travels had been so far. He explained that our conversation had to be short
because he still had to call my dad and my sisters, and only had fifteen
minutes until his flight to Mexico since the other missionaries he was
travelling with had taken up all of the time. I told him I didn't care, and
that I was happy to just be talking to him. Near the end I started getting
teary-eyed, and it didn't help when he said "think of us doing 'the
Wal-Mart pose' whenever you're sad or whenever you miss me." Thinking
about that even now still makes me teary-eyed. We said our goodbyes and hung
up, and some tears spilled over onto my cheeks. I texted my mom and my sister
to let them know that I was able to talk to him and that he would probably call
them soon.
I feel like I was there.
ReplyDeleteThat was the goal :)
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