It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night. That cat had gone out, the dog had come in and the husband was asleep snoring lightly at her side. A baby slept in the next room and the glare of the bathroom light crept in through the crack of the door left sitting ajar.
She had never liked the sound of the ringing phone…ever. She always felt the threat of bad news. At night it always brought her heart into her throat. So that night, the ring would not be good news, or so she thought.
So she did not answer. It rang three times…only three times. Then the person was gone. Silence filled the room and her mind began wondering…who was it? Why would anyone call at that hour?
The baby slept through the ringing but she still felt the need to check…was he alright? Then she began thinking of a past due bill, a forgotten phone call, the steak that had been in the refrigerator too long. Tic toc tic toc…the night resisted the luster of a sunrise, lingering for what seemed forever. She searched for the perfect thought, the song of sleep, the whisper of peace.
The phone had only rung three times but she could hear it still and she did not sleep.
Here I am awake at midnight. Maybe sleep will come soon.