For the past day and a half I've been texting a girl somewhere in the south who I believed to be my sister, never realizing I've accidentally been using an old cell phone number. Early this morning I receive a text that says who is this?
I write back as if she's the foolish one, Jennifer your sister.
Minutes later she writes back, This is Sheena. I don't have any sisters.
I immediately apologize and she quickly texts, It's cool chick.
I laugh. Part of me wants to keep texting her. But, a cool chick probably wouldn't do that.
It reminds me of last week when the house was quiet, like being at a funeral. I tried to read, but found it distracting that no one else was around to say anything. The phone rang. I grabbed it as if snatching coins from a winning slot machine. I didn't recognize the out-of-state number and told myself to let it go. Not willing to miss my chance to talk to another adult I picked up on the fourth ring as if Oprah were calling.
"Hi, is Diana there?" the male voice asked with a thick Latin accent.
"No, you must have the wrong number," I said. But, I'll talk to you anyway, I wanted to add before hanging up.
I met another single parent recently who agreed that one of the most challenging parts of being alone is the silence. He bought a Cockatiel to whistle to when he comes home at night.
I don't want a bird or a dog or a cat. We have a fish which I don't think counts.
Maybe I should text Sheena, the girl without any sisters, and see what she would do.
