The Call

Usually, the call comes at 3 am and jolts everyone out of bed. No one expects the call to come at 4:30 on a lazy Sunday afternoon. But it came.
“Dad just rushed Mom to the hospital,” said my sister. “I don’t know why. I’ll call you when I have more information.”
Living five hours away, I asked it if I should come home. I asked what I could do to help, all the while knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do.
Hanging up the phone I climbed into the loving arms of my husband and cried over everything it could be. I hugged my daughter and wondered if she’d ever see her Grandma again. I wondered if I’d ever see my mommy again.
Shaking those ugly thoughts from my head, I lit a candle and stared into the flame. First, prayed… no, prayed isn’t the right word, I begged. I begged that it was something minor, begged that she’d be sent home within the hour, begged that the whole ordeal was just a nightmare from an afternoon nap.
Continuing to stare at the candle, memories flooded my mind of all the ways she’s loved me. Thoughts of her singing songs in the car with us on long trips, of her making us dinner every night, no matter how tired she was or how much we complained that we (ok, I) hate spaghetti. Thoughts of curling up in her lap a month before leaving for college and crying because I knew how much I was going to miss her.
The love between a mother and daughter is something that can never be explained by mere words. It is a bond of epic proportions.  It is a love bond I’ve already started developing with my daughter. Her contagious laugh, her three-tooth smile, and her slobbery open-mouthed kisses tell me she’s also feeling the love.
Thankfully, just a couple of hours later (although it felt like forever) I got the second call. It was a false alarm. A possible pinched nerve in her upper back that made the area around her heart tingle, was the cause for all the worry.
Tears flooded my eyes for a final time that evening when I heard the voice of my mommy on the phone, telling me, as she has a thousand times before, that everything was going to be okay.
Jennifer McMurrain blogs weekly at, about her life as a full time writer and first time mommy. She has one novel out, Quail Crossings, which can be found on
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