Sometimes We Need to Listen
My cell phone rang. (Your brotha's on the phone. Your brotha's callin' you.) I answered. It was my brother, no surprise—you know, the ringtone and all. I launched into my typical tirade. Words to hear myself talk.
Me: "You must have read my mind. I was just phone shopping online, and since you always have a Galaxy phone too; what phone would you recommend?"
My brother: "I never had a Galaxy phone. You should talk to Cooper about phones."
Me: "You did have a Galaxy. I remember that we both had the very first Galaxy at the same time. That's why I started down that path. The path of buying Galaxy phones."
My brother [grumpy]: "Maybe you're right. I can't remember."
Me: "I know I'm right, but anyway; what phone are you using now?" (I hear Lein, his wife, in the background. I hate when he doesn't tell me I am on speaker. I need to tell him to let me know from now on.)
My brother [slightly less grumpy]: "An LG."
Me: "Wow. We are on the same page. That is exactly what my thoughts were. I had an LG once and loved it." (I hear a voice over a loudspeaker in the background.) "What model is it?"
My brother: [silence] (Voice over a loudspeaker, Paging Doctor...)
Me: "Where are you? Are you at home?"
My brother: "No. The hospital. I had a mild heart attack last night."
Me: [finally silent, as I absorb this information from my 55-year-old brother] "Why didn't you tell me to shut up talking about stupid phones?"
My brother [chuckling]: "I was waiting for you to finish. Waiting for you to listen."
By Lisa H. Owens
Inspired by a real conversation. Her brother ended up with a quintuple bypass and a surgeon's suggestion to stop smoking. (10/9/2020)
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