Thursday, 30 August 2001 | Um

Wow, not even a week and already another stranger on my answering machine. Two messages this time, both from a girl named Mary, whom I'd guess, by the sound of her voice, is about seven years old. She called to report that she'd found my cat "Leeches" and wanted to know whether it was missing (or just roaming). She started off both messages saying "um…" repeatedly, in a voice that was barely audible. I had to turn off the fan in the room and call one wrong number before I figured out what number she'd given me. Apparently Leeches befriended her sometime during the day yesterday, and she'd called to make sure cat and owner were reunited. (By the time I got home from work, Leeches had returned home.) I called Mary to thank her, and was sorry to only have the opportunity to leave her a message. I guess I would've only sounded like any other adult to her, my real voice making her more nervous than my recorded one. For some reason I don't feel like I should be classified exclusively as an adult yet; instead, I feel like I'm standing somewhere in between, with one foot in each territory, able to step with two on either side. Had I talked to Mary, I would've wanted her to know not to be nervous and to not call me ma'am and, come to think of it, what sort of adult does she think would name her cat "Leeches" anyway?

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Tomorrow I leave for New York.