Teen Talk

When the husband and I were in high school we stole many a late-night hour from the bedtime tyrants (the parents) as we talked to each other in hushed conversations on the telephone. I even lied to Wonderboy (the husband), telling him that the second phone line at our household only rang in the basement. It didn’t. But he never would have called me that late if he had known that either of my parents could have picked up the other end of the line.

So, often after my magical dates with Wonderboy he would hold my hand all the way to my doorstep, hug me—a long one if I was lucky—and then tell me he planned to call. I rushed inside, checked in with the parental units, then flew like a phoenix on fire to my bedroom where I stood vigilantly by my phone, waiting for the “incoming call” light to blink. If I knew Wonderboy planned on calling, I always caught the call long before the phone even thought of ratting out our midnight conversations.

Now I’m the bedtime tyrant. But, I’m still steeling away many a late-night hour in hushed conversations with the one I love. After a few hours, it’s not that we even have that much to say anymore. It’s just the thrill of hearing his tired voice on the other end of the line tell me how much he loves me, how much he wishes I were with him, and how much he wants to see our sleeping sons. I feel like a teenager again—except that we never said the big “L” word, we whispered so that we wouldn’t wake our parents (not our boys), and Wonderboy isn’t just a few miles away. He’s in Texas.

Even though the husband is 1,500 miles from our home, I do feel like our frequent phone conversations have improved the quality of our communication. Odd, I know, but it’s easy to become complacent and take the company of the one you love for granted. I’m not distracted by the dishes and the laundry and the many miscellaneous messes piling up around me. He’s not allowing his attention to be split by email, research and catalogues of online sports stories.

I discussed this phenomenon with the husband and he agrees, but he also thinks that being in the same room with the one you love is worth a thousand words. I say that thousands of words are worth thousands of words. Of course, our time together can never really be replaced by phones or video-chats or text messages or letters. But I love listening to his undistracted, uninhibited thoughts. I remember how it feels to soak in every sweet sentence. I adore the way he laughs at my clever, flirty attempts to catch his attention. And I love hearing him do the same.

Even though it’s hard to be apart, in some ways I feel like the distance is helping us grow a little closer together. The husband even sat down to read, “Five Love Languages” the other day. Now I want to read it too. I don’t want this to last forever, but I’m thankful for the reminder that deep down inside of me is still the smitten teenage girl who stands watchfully by her phone, waiting for the moment that Wonderboy will call.