Midnight Musings

My son called me on his cell phone and we had a horrible connection.

I heard, "...it...bu...kye...tuna." I told him I couldn't hear and to repeat it.
Again, broken up fragments.
I said, "Are you saying, 'tuna'?"
"Yes. bu...kye...tuna...'k."
"All I hear is 'tuna'."
"I moved closer to the door. Is this better?"
"Yes. Are you calling me about tuna??"
"Yes. I need to know what kind of tuna I like."

If only we could put a price tag on those minutes we can never recover.