I love phone calls. It's a little weird, mainly because I've always been better at writing than speaking. Writing is a way of expressing myself that I can take time over, that I can eloquently use to alleviate the bubbling stress of my frenetic feelings by crafting the perfect Hello. The perfect Sorry. The perfect Goodbye. I can throw alliteration in there, and make words rhyme within sentences, and feel like everything fits.
But phone calls have kept me sane. Not confrontational or dramatic ones, but everyday phonecalls. The ones that make you forget the distance that separates you. The ones where you fill each other in with the boring details of your day, because otherwise you'd never know the intimate corners of each other's domesticity. You'd never know that small thing someone said on that day that caused a cross journey home. You'd never know what they were having for dinner (unless of course they 'grammed it). You'd never know the delicacies of the mundane. The beauty in the mild. The sparkle in the run-of-the-mill.
As I put my phone down, I smile. Feeling like I'm right there with you.