Thank You For Forgiveness

I wonder at the miracle that is the relief when you call me after days of silence with not a single trace of bitterness or resentment lingering long in your voice. I listen while you divulge your secret fears and feelings to me just like old times, but do not speak for a while in response when you ask me what I think. Because I was under the impression you might never speak to me again, but here you were calling me on a Friday afternoon asking me to listen to you ranting about yourself. For once I am glad to hear the very sound of your voice.
And you seem upset. You have been speaking in words too fast, too rapid and too tear-strained for me to catch, so I whisper to you to slow down, calm down, a million times over. Eventually your breathing begins to deepen and not catch midway down, and I can practically hear the flow of tears drying up and being wiped away by your ever-callous hands. Then, in this moment of silence, I speak and tell you I have missed you.
I never realized till this day that quiet words spoken into telephone receivers could ever echo so greatly once repeated.