All the smartphones and communication razzmatazz can’t get the husband to communicate on time, every time. When it matters the most.
Like when I’m walking home and wonder if he has left work as yet and can pick me up on the way home.
Like when I stop by the grocers and reach home only to realise that I have way too many things to carry up four storeys all by myself.
Like when my hunger pangs begin to gnaw at the insides of my stomach earlier than usual and I need to check with him if we can catch an early lunch.
Like when I need to know if he’s going to be home for dinner or working later than usual.
Like when I’m bummed and need him to know that it would be nice if he came home early for a change.
Nothing seems to shake him out of his focus for work. Not the timely jabber (IM at work), not the occasional call, not the fact that it is 1 pm (our designated lunchtime). Not even the fact that I’m seated in the next room, not too far away to be told when we can eat, when we can leave and go home.
Sometimes I think all the communication tools lead us to one thing, and one thing only: communication breakdown.