Here's a Telephone

Here's a Telephone by Page France

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My 26th birthday never really had a chance. In between my first and second year of grad school, the summer had been hard on me... I wasn't sure where I was going or what I wanted to be. I was suddenly entering my late 20s and I didn't necessarily want to be. Twenty-six seemed so old, too old to not have any direction other than another year of graduate school.

A crisis of faith or self or something-like-that fell upon me.

What did I want to do with my life? Where was I going? How did I get here? My birthday wasn't a day of celebration, it was a day of reflection which threw me into an existential abyss...

It was a Friday and like my previous two birthdays all I wanted was a pitcher of beer and pizza. Being in Chicago, my parents and sister took me to Piece, however when we got there the place was packed and we had to wait. I couldn't take it... the crowd, and my anxiety got the best of me. I told my family that I'd be back in a few minutes.

Unconditional love is always with us but we rarely need it. But in those times that we need it we don't necessarily appreciate it. We're too busy consuming that love that we over look the fact that we're receiving it.

And that was my case on my 26th with my family. They let me go. They let me walk. They knew that I needed this. Was I acting and being a mature 26 year old? Hard to say. But it was what I needed. I needed to walk, think things over and take in the fresh air on a beautiful day.

As I walked the streets of Bucktown searching for peace of mind, I called The Girl. She was in New York and had already wished me Happy Birthday, but I turned to her in my time of self crisis and doubt.

It's hard to say if I fell in love with The Girl over the next thirty minutes—the reality was I was already in love with her and she was in love with me but we hadn't admitted this to each other yet. Our relationship wasn't that new by that point, we had been dating for four or five months. The "newness" or "honeymoon" of the relationship had faded. It was time to get serious if we wanted to...

But none of this was going though my head as we talked. I told her of my anxiety, of my crisis, of my self doubt and wondering where I was going in life... and she listened and listened and listened. And then she added her comments, talking me down, helping me deal with my anxiety, crisis, doubt, and purpose. "You're young... and I have the same emotions from time to time, you just have to find what you want and go for it... it will work out." Maybe it's standard stuff... but the reality is it's not. Most people don't respond like this during a time of personal crisis and conflict. People are too self-absorbed, too into themselves and their feelings and their past experiences.

That evening, the Girl wasn't like that. The Girl only focused on me and was only there to help me. It was unconditional, selfless love. She calmed me down... something few people on this Earth can do. Instead of getting frustrated with me, she was there, a solid rock—someone I could lean on—at a time when I needed someone to lean on. It was wonderful.

The next day, as my crisis lifted with a night of sleep, I realized two things about the Girl:
1) We were in love. And we would profess this to each other a few weeks later when the time was right.
2) Unlike almost every other girl I had ever dated, she could handle me. She could deal with my anxiety... The Girl was good for me.

This felt really good. Really fucking good.