Calling him

At first, I called him. 
I wanted to check in so he didn't check out.
I wanted to see if I could detect him leaving me,
In the sound of his voice
In the words that he used
In who he spoke about most

Sometimes I would feel down
I did not mean for this to become a daily habit
A habit yes, but not a daily habit.
Can't we skip a night here or there?

Then he would call.
He would apologize for disturbing me
That was not what I wanted
Not to make him feel bad or sad
Or un-thought of

Now it has been a year.
Sometimes I call.
Sometimes he calls.
We skip nights here and there.
There are no apologies.
Though there is an uncertainty in his voice
A rush to let me get back to whatever I do

It is mostly one sided
He tells me about his dinner
Sometimes his breakfast
He tells me who has left the building
Who is planning to leave
Who has moved in
About the sisters who watch out for each other
He tells me the stories from yesterday
The stories from the day before
Sometimes the stories from the day before that
The same stories he told me yesterday
And the day before that

I used to try to make sense of the dates and order of things
Now I just let it wash over me
If it doesn't make sense
It is okay

He asks about the weather where I am
He sometimes asks about my dinner
Usually when his was not very appealing

By having thoughts he can share
He knows he is not checking out
Not yet
Little by little
So it goes

"Hey dad, how are you doing?"
"Well........"