Yesterday morning, around 11, I was doing some laundry when the phone rang. "US Govt" said the caller ID. There was once a time in my life when this would have been weird, but I'm so far past that. Once you've received phone calls at home from the D.A., very little surprises anymore.
"Hello?" I answered. There was a pause.
I had just received my first correspondence from him in more than two weeks the day before, so I was not expecting a phone call. He explained that it was technically a "business" call; he needed some more detailed information about his work history and my mom's and brother's foreign birth certificates, but while I looked up what he needed, we were able to talk.
How do you sum up two weeks of a changed life in just 10 minutes? Well, you don't, is the thing.
He was somewhat restrained in what he said and how, but he's doing well. Still, I'm his wife, and I could hear the happiness in his voice. We proclaimed our love. Ethan even got to speak to him, which was wonderful. I told him I'd sent him 11 letters the day before, and also some photos and drawings that Ethan had done. Just as we were about to hang up, I told him once again that I loved him and that hopefully he'd receive my letters by week's end.
"And you'll have lots of smiles!" Ethan added with ingenuous sincerity.
After we hung up, Ethan and I cheered and ran into each other's arms.
We couldn't cover much ground on a business phone call in just 10 minutes, but I realize now that's what the letters are for. I've always communicated best through writing anyway. Hearing his voice, though, was marvelous. Apparently, more than seven years of marriage hasn't squashed my schoolgirl infatuation with Noah. At the same time, I'm also realizing the maturity of our relationship, my love for him revolving more around who he is than what he does for me (emotionally, domestically, whateverally). That's one of the things I wrote in tonight's letter to him.
The letters sustain. The phone calls, well. Those are a gift.