I've been waiting for your call

It's a quiet rainy Sunday morning. So far, I'm the only one up.  Just my coffee and my iPad and my recliner.

Today is going to be odd because yesterday marked the end of a month-long stay of my dear friend Patsy, who trekked all the way from Austin, Texas to be here with my family while I recuperated from surgery.  The house isn't going to quite feel complete.

You might remember that the planning for this surgery happened rather quickly.  I didn't even have it confirmed until the family was on vacation in Puerto Rico early last month.  The first phone call I made after hanging up with the surgical coordinator was to Patsy.  Could she come to Atlanta in ten days to help out...for a month?

Of course, she responded.  I've been waiting for your call.

Patsy and I met about 25 years ago while we were both working at the Emory school of medicine.  She was a medical illustrator and I was a wet-behind-the-ears medical writer/editor. She and I got to know each other while I was helping a faculty member put together a second edition of a surgery textbook for which Patsy had originally done many of the illustrations by hand.  

Patsy and I were drawn together as friends not just because we shared a similar sense of humor but also because we were similarly entertained by the political intrigue of working in the administration of a medical school.  We'd quietly observe during the work day and then have a giggle fit over lunch.  We both had an odd mix of respect and irreverence for our employer.  It made for interesting ways to get through our days.

Years passed, work and lives changed.  I quit Emory. Babies were born...she was there for a week with me when Allen and Boyce were newborns.  

Patsy retired from Emory and moved to Austin to be near family while we were living in France, though she still found a two-month period to come live with us over there.  

To call her friend is an inaccuracy.  She's family.  My boys have always called her Aunt Patsy, and she knows if she ever is wanting for a table to sit around for Thanksgiving or Christmas, ours always has an extra place with her name on it.  

I'll be depressed today.  Right now it's about the time she'd come downstairs to join me for our morning chat. 

We have a kitchen full of goodies she made and left for us, so there are some vestiges of her being here with which to console ourselves.

But the cheese straws and banana bread will run out much too quickly before I'll be longing for her to be here again.  I know, though...when I need her all it takes is a phone call, and she'll be here.

So, put up your feet today, Patsy.  You've earned some down time.  And you never know when that phone is going to ring again...