Damn, how is it that something as simple as an answering machine can knock you flat on your ass (figuratively speaking)?
I was working at the dining room table, reading some property questions, and Baby Girl was in the kitchen, playing with the answering machine (which we don't use, because our phone has voicemail). I kept hearing the original message (the one that comes on the machine) when I heard Pablo's voice. I convinced myself that it was just me hearing things in my head. After hearing it several more times, I got up and found Baby Girl. I took the machine from her, and checked the greetings, and lo and behold, there's Pablo saying hello, and that he can't come to the phone. That voice, that's so fucking familiar - yet I haven't heard it in two years. I couldn't contain myself and the tears just overcame me. Baby Girl thought I was laughing, and she started laughing nervously, but when she saw that I was crying, she held my head, stroked my face and just said "No llores, mami" (don't cry, mommy). Of course that just set off a fresh jag of tears. When Baby Girl said "papi" I finally smiled through the tears, and played it for her, so she could hear his voice.
It's incredibly fucked up that my daughter has to hear her dad's voice through a message that is 3 1/2 years old. My sense of fairness is extremely stretched to the limit at those moments.