by Heather E. Stockwell

The phone rings. A thousand million possibilities go through my mind. So many potential scenes cascade through.

An old lover wishing to remember?

A new friend hoping to forget?

A man who sells or cries or yells?

I remember the phone, as the machine that carried my sister’s voice telling me my mother was gone.

I don’t trust you anymore, phone. Over your wires have traveled pain and anger and fear. You ring and a mother’s heart holds for a beat, a wayward lover leaps to catch you first, lest their betrayal be known.

But from you also come love and births and jobs and hope. Through you I have spoken my darkest fears and my brightest dreams.

And now, you ring. Pleading with me to make a choice, let you in, take a chance.

So, should I answer?

Heather Stockwell is a left-handed Libra, with three cats. She lives on a windswept hill overlooking the Mystic River in Somerville, MA with her husband.  Contact Heather.