My feet hit the floor running and I had a long to-do list. As I headed out, Jane popped into my thoughts. I don’t know why.
Preoccupied with my list, I pressed forward. As I went from one appointed stop to another, thoughts of Jane kept returning.
Maybe I should call her, I thought.
Not today, though. Too much to do.
Midday, when I circled back home to deposit a trunkload of groceries, there she was again on my mind.
Maybe I should give her a quick ring while I’m home? I wondered.
Still too much to do today. I don’t want to get side-tracked.
What if the quick ring turns out not to be ‘quick’?
We aren’t that close.
If I call for no reasons except she was on my mind she’ll think it’s strange.
Besides, by now she’s probably into her day and I’d be interrupting for no reason.
After that, thoughts of Jane gradually dwindled.
Later that week, on Thursday, I was in town and bumped into Jane. After the usual “How are you?” and “Fine, and you?” I told her she’d been on my mind lately and that I’d almost called her.
“I wish you had,” she said, and went on to tell of a difficult situation with her son, one that came to a head the previous weekend.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I tell you, Marilyn, I cried all day Monday.”
Make of it what you will. As for me, ever since that day, I’m more prone to pick up the phone and make the call. Not that my call would have kept her from crying, but maybe it would have kept her from feeling all alone while she was doing it.
So far, following through on persistent nudges like that has never turned out to be the wrong thing to do.