Calling Mom Home

I call my mom once a year, on the day she died. Five times I have pulled up “Mom Home” in my contacts. Five times I have pressed the phone icon. Five times she has never picked up.

I haven’t given her much time. I tap the red disconnect button as soon as I hear the first ring. “Call ended” flashes across the screen, and she is gone.

I worry someday someone will answer. Someone who is not my mom. Someone whose number this is now. That someone might call back, ask who this is anyway.

I would tell them.

Elizabeth Boquet is a Louisiana writer living in Connecticut. She writes in the space between New Orleans and New Haven.


Photo Credit: Susan

14 Responses to “Calling Mom Home”

  1. SHREYA SINGH says:

    Just wanted to say that i have enjoyed this story. I LOVE IT

  2. Heather Z says:

    Thank you, Beth, for such a tender reminder.

  3. Toni says:

    just wanted to say that I’ve enjoyed this touching piece.

  4. Janel says:

    )))pangs((( Love this, Beth.

  5. Mariann Regan says:

    This is stunning. It fuses the worlds of the real and the imaginary. This is where each of us lives.

  6. Elizabeth Hilts says:

    How does one fit all this emotional resonance in 100 words? Fantastic.

  7. Cynthia Miecznikowski says:

    Lovely. I called my dad several times after he died and had similar thoughts. As now, my emotions are sttubborn against reason.

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