A blast from the past

The phone rang Tuesday night shortly after Kary got home from work. I looked at the caller ID but didn't recognize the name, so I let the machine get it. "Hi, this is NK..." and for some reason, even though reading the name meant nothing to me, as soon as she said her name I knew who she was. She and her husband were friends with my parents from before I was born. They all lost touch when my parents split up in '77 and my mom passed away in '87. NK apparently isn't aware, because her message went on to inquire about my mother (if I was, in fact, the CG she was looking for).

Of course I should return her call, but I really don't want to. I have a friend that suggested that if/when I do, I should focus on the stuff about my mom that made me and NK happy, which is easier said than done, but is also very good advice. She'll be surprised to hear the news so it's hard to predict where the conversation could go from there. I still wanna speak with my dad first to see if it's OK to pass along his contact info should she ask for it.

NK and her husband were nice people. We spent a lot of time with them and their son, who was a little younger than me if I remember correctly. They would all stay up late, smoking, drinking whiskey sours and playing cards (it seemed that's what every adult I knew did back then). If we were at their house I'd be in my pajamas and forced to sleep in their bed. There was once when I was maybe 5; I tossed and turned to the point I fell out of the bed and hit my head on the base of the bedside table. I knew it hurt but didn't imagine the looks of horror I'd face as I stood in the doorway holding the top of my head. "I fell out of bed." "Oh my GOD!" Apparently the blood had saturated my hair and I was later described as looking like Lucille Ball.

I survived that fall, and a few dozen since (and more than a few more looks of horror), but those are stories for another time. For now I have to concentrate on a phone call I'm more than a little hesitant to make.