Day 4 Prompt-Imagine: for fun or a dare, you use your phone and dial your own phone number... and someone picks up!
Write a story about who is on the other end and what happens next.
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I’m desperate to get a hold of my husband. I don’t think I can manage this day alone. My phone has been struggling to function properly, so when I bring up contacts, it force closes itself. I know his number by heart-one of very few. Years ago I had dozens memorized, but now…
I punch in his number and wait for the dial tone. One ring, two rings.
“Hello?” The voice is familiar, but not my husband.
“I’m looking for Thomas. Why are you answering his phone?” I snap at the woman.
“This is my number. Thomas is my husband though.” She says. Confusion swirls in my head.
“What? Thomas Grandy?” I ask.
“Yes? That’s my husband.” She sounds confused. And yet, her voice is so familiar.
“Who is this? I ask warily.
“My name is Alison.”
“My name is Alison.” Now I’m terribly confused.
Silence fills both ends of the line.
“Your voice does sound familiar.” She says quietly.
“Yeah. I agree.” Even the way that she says certain words. It almost sounds like my own voice.
“Could it be…” she hesitates, “that we are one-in-the-same?”
“You think that we…stumbled on some kind of alternate universe? That would mean that I accidentally dialed my own number.”
I pull the phone away from my ear to check the screen for what I dialed.
“You must be right, because this is my number.” I confess.
“Well, let’s not waste this opportunity.”
“What year are you from, Alison?” My curiosity piqued.
“I’m in year 2024.”
“It’s 2018 here.” I say while calculating the time between us.
“So I’m future you. What were you calling my husband about?” She asks sweetly.
“Well, I assume that you know everything I’m going through?” I query.
“It’s Christmas time. That was a hard Christmas for you.”
“That’s right. At the moment, I’m dealing with our sick child, which is really quite triggering.” There’s a moment of silence.
“I know it is, Alison. You struggle with that kind of thing.”
Tears begin streaming my face. “I can’t do it. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Alison, I’ll let you know that I’m also dealing with our sick child in this year. It’s not easy.” She confesses.
“What? I don’t want to know that. I can’t handle it.”
“You will. You do. You are.”
My crying intensifies.
“Alison, let me tell you, you’re going to get through this. You’ll grow and get better. You won’t resort to the old tactics and avoidance techniques. You’ll start going to something called Celebrate Recovery and learn some great tools. When you get to this year and have to manage your son’s sickness, it will go better for you. Not because of your own strength, but because you’re slowly learning to depend on God. You memorize scripture to keep you firm on His foundation.”
I swipe my hand across my nose to stop the mucus.
“I am?”
“Yes, it has still been hard, but we, you manage much better this time around. You reach out to friends for support and prayers. You love and comfort your son in a way you weren’t able to before. You have grown and it’s beautiful.”
I quietly cry. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“I believe that God must’ve wanted me to encourage you in this time.” She says.
Between sniffles I say, “I think you’re right.”
After a cute chuckle, she says, “And who knows maybe I’ll get a call from us a few years from now telling me how much we’ve grown. That’d be nice.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that would be great.”
“You’re going to do just fine. Only hold onto Christ with all your might. Don’t look at the storm, look at your Savior.”
A stray tear escapes. “Yes, that’s very good.”
“Merry Christmas, Alison.” She chimes.
“Yes, merry Christmas and happy new year, Alison.”
I hear the click of the end of the call and I immediately run to my room to speak to God and begin memorizing scripture.
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