My phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. There was no name, just a phone number. But that phone number had a 212 area code. If you didn't know, 212 is the area code for New York City and for a writer I think it could be three of the most exciting numbers they will ever see.
My heart leaped into my throat, I ran out of the room, leaving the kids munching on chicken nuggets, and answered the phone in the most professional voice my excited breathlessness would allow. Nothing. The call didn't completely connect. I heard a clicking silence for a while and then the ominous *beep, beep, beep* of a disconnected call.
|Photo by Dani_vr (Flickr)|
I panicked. I tried calling the number back - it was busy and didn't go to voicemail, which started me thinking that it was probably not the editor, but a sales call of some kind. I did a Google reverse search on it and didn't really come up with anything except that the number belonged to a doctor fifteen years ago. Not much help.
Eventually I had to give up. But that made me start wondering. 212. A simple collection of numbers that got me as hyped and excited as I was when I first sent in the manuscript. Life needs more 212s. I need more things in my life that remind me of the simple joys and excitements and profound meanings that get lost in the everyday shuffle. I needs things that remind me how wonderful it is to be saved, how precious time with my children is, and how loving and caring my husband is.
What are your 212s? What are the things that just remind you of the giddiness and wonder that we lose after the initial luster of something rubs off?