soopastryheart

Sometimes it’s easiest to forget the most obvious and important things. Our brains can handle only so much life at once, you know? That’s why I’m so grateful for auto-pay, iCal notifications, and those little oil change stickers on the corner of my windshield. Sometimes, I’ll glance at an email on my phone, making a mental note to reply at a later time when a keyboard is under my fingertips. Naturally, I’ll completely forget until a week later when I realize I’ve been that asshole who left you hanging.

I’ve been getting better at those emails though, by simply retagging them as unread. I also keep a notepad out in the open on the kitchen counter, assuring that I create a list of things I need for the next grocery run, so I don’t come back from a trip with four bags of Milanos and not much else. Boyfriend and I realized we had a reoccurring habit of forgetting what we had in our pantry/fridge, which resulted in either throwing away a ton of expired foods or stocking up like a bomb shelter. We remedied this by making sure we rotated things from our cabinets and fridge compartments on a weekly basis. Not only do we save money this way, but we alleviate our guilt too.

Still though, no matter how many sticky notes and alarms I set for myself, there are things that I let slip because they seem far too ridiculous to create a reminder for. Things like, “lunges around the living room” or “drink more water” or “YOUR BLOG, ASSHOLE.”

But by far the worst things I forget pertain to those who deserve it the least. We’re self- absorbent creatures by default, and it’s easy to get caught up in your dilemmas. I’ve always been super close to my parents, but that doesn’t mean I necessarily share everything with them – they don’t need to hear about my crippling insecurities when it comes to my writing, or the half dozen anxiety attacks I’ve had in this past year. I know that by withholding these things, I’m ultimately saving them from the stress and panic I know they’ll endure. So sometimes, when they call and I’m in the middle of one of my pity parties, I’ll ignore it, telling myself that I’ll call them back when I’m in a better state. I’m ashamed to say that sometimes, these soirees become overnighters or weekend getaways, which means that my parents’ calls often go ignored for days at a time (to my defense, we have never gone more than three days without talking, so two days of dodging calls will raise flags).

While I try to convince myself that I do these things out of consideration, I can’t help but imagine the disappointment and frustration my parents must feel when they are greeted by my voicemail five times in a row. My parents know me far too well, so I suspect that they understand the reasons behind my absence from the phone. But because they are parents, they continue to reach out, hoping that they can help in any way.

And sometimes, I admittedly ignore their calls because I’ll selfishly feel inconvenienced by all their concern. Shamefully, it takes a solemn voicemail from my dad, who will, without lecture or disappointment in his tone, to remind me to return my mom’s phone calls “when I can” because she just wants to hear from me.

If there were an app that would remind me not to be an asshole to the only two people who never deserve it, I would be all on that.  But unfortunately, there’s no tool that can prompt you to be a better person. As ridiculous as it sounds, you have to stop yourself from categorizing phone calls from parents as another email to respond to, or an item to check off your to-do list. You have to take a step back to realize that, despite your busiest schedules and the most hectic of days, you can’t prioritize people. A five or ten minute phone call may seem like the most miniscule of tasks, but maybe you should stop looking it as one completely. Because what may seem like mindless chatter to you can feel like your parents’ only portal to the child they’ve let off to the world.

They just want to be included. Without seeking permission. Without feeling like a nuisance. Parents never become obsolete. They never stop doing their job simply because you’re no longer under their roof. They never love you any less with age. They never stop missing you, whether you live 3,000 miles away or across town. They want to know that no matter how independent you’ve become, you still need them from time to time, and you’re still thinking of them.

Because I am. I think of them often and much. But I still have to be reminded to answer when they call.

Call your parents. They’d love to hear from you.