It was just a phone call…

…but somehow it meant everything.

He finally got to call from basic training—just a few minutes, nothing long or deep, but I’d been waiting for it like it was the most important thing in the world. And when the phone rang and I saw his name, I froze for a second. I didn’t even expect to get emotional, but there it was—a weird mix of happiness and this sudden lump in my throat I didn’t know what to do with.

His voice was tired but familiar. Just hearing it again made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t expect. We talked quickly—mostly small updates, him letting me know he’s okay, me trying to squeeze in everything I could without sounding overwhelmed. I didn’t cry (that much), but I definitely felt that deep ache of missing him harder than I had all week.

There was so much I wanted to say, but so little time. Still, hearing “I love you so much” out loud instead of writing it in a letter hit differently. It felt like a piece of him was back home for a second.

And then it was over. The call ended, and I stared at my phone like it might somehow bring him back.

It was just a phone call.
But it reminded me how much love and missing can exist in the same space.
And how a few minutes can carry you through a lot of days.