I don't use my cellphone very often these days. So if someone leaves me a message on it, it can take awhile before I hear it. I turned it on yesterday and there were three messages, two from the woman I make soup with. And one that started, "Hi, Honeybunny..."
A man's voice. One I didn't recognize. As I listened further, it was obvious that he had called the wrong number. The message broke my heart.
"I've got some sad news. I just talked to my good friend. His son was killed in a car accident. And I immediately thought of you.
"Please be careful. You've been part of my life for twenty six years and I want you to be part of it for many, many more.
"I love, you Honeybunny. I just wanted you to know that."
Mine is the 'spare' phone. It's got a bare bones plan. That, apparently, doesn't do call display for voicemail.
So, Honeybunny, if, by one of those amazing twists of fate (that are so much more common than we want to realize), you're reading this, your Dad loves you. Please give him a call.
And if your name's not Honeybunny, but you have a Dad, give him a call anyway.
After hearing that message, I'd have given my right arm to be able to call mine.