Like Lionel Richie

There are times when I am just sitting and thinking, like when I am on the subway or in the back of a cab, and I am alone with my thoughts and my mind runs. Today I thought about my aunt Tina, who died many, many years ago. She is one of my very favorite people, on this earth or in it. She was actually my great-aunt, my grandmother’s sister. She never had children and she always told me that I was like a daughter to her. Today I thought about when she used to take me to Green Acres mall when I was just a kid. I remember when we would go in summer and drive in her car with the radio blasting singing as the hot air blew in from the windows. She was like Lucille Ball meets Wilma Flintstone. I often think of her in times when I wish I could get her advice or just hear her Forbell Street, Brooklyn-twang.

I still remember her phone number, but I can’t call.

Which makes me think of people who don’t call, don’t respond to emails or texts. But not because they don’t want to, but because they don’t have time or are not in the right frame of mind to talk.

I’ll admit; I hate the phone. Mostly this happened at the onset of cell phone-only use. I used to love it. Talked for hours sometimes. But not since I’ve gone cellular.

Why do we put off calling, meeting, talking in person? I wish I could talk to my aunt Tina. I wish I talked to her more when she was alive. I was in college when she passed away. Busy. Didn’t call a lot. Until her cancer returned some twenty-odd years later.

Then I called a lot. Visited her and brushed her hair. Fed her. I had major guilt that I was too wrapped up in my own life to be there for her more. To have her enrich my life by just talking more to her as an adult. She was an amazing woman. She always made sure my uncle had my favorite foods in the house when I stayed over—especially Entenmann’s Chocolate Chip cookies. I liked them before they had the new recipe, so it was always the original. Like her.

So call. Make time. Return that email.