When I was a sophomore in high school, I had a part-time job teaching Tae Kwon Do to toddlers after school. Because I was "working", and I had decent grades, I had met every obligation necessary to merit the possession of a cell phone, which I received for my fifteenth birthday. I returned home between 9 and 10 PM, and faithfully checked the activity on my "emergency" pre-paid cell phone.
Without fail, I received a daily notification that a voicemail had been delivered to my mailbox at around 3:00 PM.
So, to save money, I called using our home's landline to check the message. Every night, before I went to bed, I got to listen to three to four minutes of my best friend's voice. She detailed her day, her ride home, her plans, and her dreams from the previous night. Sometimes she recounted the parts of our day together, and repeated the funniest parts of our conversations. I laughed, nightly, until tears rolled down my cheeks, just listening to the voice of my friend.
Other times, she cried on the message, thinking aloud about her latest relationship dilemma, a fight with her parents, or a disappointing score on a math test. She complained about arguments with other people. Sometimes she sang our favorite ridiculous songs into the phone, and then hung up with a quick 'bye'.
One day, I asked her why she always called so early, knowing that I would be at work, and unable to answer. Her answer was simple: when she arrived at her empty home, she needed someone to talk to while she verified that she was safe, and alone in the house.
It has taken nearly ten years for me to process the significance there. My friend did not even need to speak to me to feel my support. She only needed to know that I would, at some point, hear her voice, and she didn't feel alone.
Today I felt useless. I felt worthless, and terribly alone. Finally, after years of taking her love for granted, I remember this conversation, and I have never felt more of a purpose in my life.
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