Phone calls in the night

We've all had them. We all hate them. There is nothing worse than being woken by a phone call. It is never good news. The bell tolls death, disaster or misfortune.

My husband is off in New York, running the marathon - literally. I went to bed at 2am having watched him cross the start line on an app. At 5.50 the phone rang. In a groggy haze of confusion, a man explained that they couldn't find my husband. His belongings were in the room still, but they hadn't been able to find him for two days. I was panicked and felt a wave of nausea descend. My world contracted to a confused tunnel. "What do you mean he's missing? What's happened?"

Then as the man talked more, I realised it was the hotel (though I'm sure they must have said that at the start of the call, and I'd not been awake enough to register). They thought he was due to check out yesterday. They'd extended his booking as a courtesy but no longer knew what to do.

Ah, sweet relief. It was nothing - 'He's running, right now, as we speak.' We extended the booking another day and I gratefully hung up, though adrenalin coursed through my veins, so there was no going back to sleep.

I found the booking confirmation, which had the correct dates, so I have no idea what the problem was. Just one of those things.

My thoughts, however, have been with those that received that call after Boston. Or after Sept 11. Or after any ill fated trip. I can not fathom the cruelness of the distance and remoteness, the echo in the phone line, the confusing time difference, all adding to an already terrible call, heralding your world collapsing.

I am thankful it was nothing. I am counting the days until he returns even more keenly than before.
I am wishing that we were all spared those calls in the night.

Linking up with Essentially Jess for IBOT.