Today I have been legitimately eaves-dropping.
The tired, controlled voice at the end of the phone had that unmistakable, so understanding, therapist tone. Suspicion which attempts to hide its face is so clear I feel I can touch it. I see the weariness and accrued disappointments that have shaped the defensive ploys that come thick, one after the other. They seem structured to avoid the need for decision and to ward off intrusions into our safe, half-dead space whilst yet providing all necessary courtesies.
What is this cut-off from human relations? Have we been so deafened by the clammer for attention and noise of modern life that we must retreat into our comfort caves?
Blinds and shutters. What marvellous inventions these are. Our weariness and dying hope has just enough latent energy to allow a careful peep between the louvres. We tolerate the intruder’s voice just long enough – could, could, could he just be a welcome arrival?
The phone goes down after a concluding, – “Write to “x”but please be clear that it is not up to me… ”
In my post-call, eaves-dropping reflections I imagine that she then spends a minute before joining the family for Sunday lunch, pondering, “I wonder if….? …I used to believe the right thing comes along at the right time…”
And after lunch is the hope strong enough to remember or is the call is forgotten?