Dearest Phone

Okay, here it is… Ode to my Phone (of all things!). I can barely believe I am sharing this publicly, yet it’s about so much more than just the phone. My husband happened to see this title walking by the computer and has informed me how lame it is. I told him I guess he’s glad he doesn’t read my blog! He agreed. O’well… I enjoyed writing it either way. 🙂 Thanks to Julia Alter for such a fun creative exercise as one small part of her wonderful week for the Art of Gratitude e-course.

Ode to my Phone

Dearest Phone… whom I share my curiosity with every time I touch your slick screen. I remember when a friend sent me a research questionnaire asking if I’d use a phone that did all these different things, like checking email and browsing the internet and taking pictures. I thought, “why would I need that when I have a computer and a camera?” I remember when the first mobile phone I ever held felt heavy like a brick as I tried to get my then boyfriend to let me out of the car and I threatened to throw his mother’s phone out the window if he wouldn’t stop… that phone was not as powerful as you with its technical aspects, yet it was strong enough to crack the windshield on its way out the window! (Yes, he finally stopped and no, we never found the phone!). I remember when my last mobile phone accidentally went for a swim in the Caribbean ocean on the morning I was getting in my dear friend’s boat to head to the little airport in the Abacos after a fabulous weekend with old friends. I remember how, until that time, my husband and I rebelled and refused to get a ‘smart phone’ for so long and friends were shocked that two computer majors did not take advantage of such technology! And, you know, my husband is still holding onto his seemingly ancient phone going on a decade now. 🙂 We even put my ‘dumb’ phone in a bag of rice to dry it out and managed to use it for a while longer! Can you believe it’s been less than a year since you first came into my life?! Dearest phone, I did not want to come to depend on you so. Yet, I am grateful for the texts from my dad and his dear Jane to ease my worries. I am grateful to be able to share the wonder and beauty I see all around me through images via email, texts, and social media. I am grateful to be able to send messages to friends and family without worrying about interrupting them with the ring of a phone call. And, I am grateful to hear the music of their voices when one of us does actually choose to call. Oh, how I love to hear my niece’s girly voice (especially since I am the only girl in my house!) and see her messages. And I smile every time my sweet Jenn leaves a message singing to my heart. Now, when my family and I start to say, “I wonder,“ it’s usually not that long until you magically display some fascinating bits of information about the tasty pineapple sage or the reason October is not currently the 8th month of the year. Do you think the set of Encyclopedias on the shelf is relieved to be left alone or sad not to be held except when I want to be sure my kids can actually use one if needed? Dearest Phone, do you like the positive password that I’ve chosen for you and do you feel the romantic dreamer in me every time I type it? Do you ever get tired of my questions and wonders and touch? Do you realize how much beauty you contain on that tiny little card full of marvelous memories, spectacular sunrises and sunsets, amazing art, dear delightful beings, and the sparkle in my mother’s eyes that has otherwise gone from my sight? Dearest phone, I am grateful that when we’re traveling, you are there to help us find our way around. I am grateful that with your aid, I can access applications that have enabled me to connect with kindred spirits across time zones, borders, cultures, and generations. I am grateful that though my immediate family and I sometimes feel that we don’t fit in where we live, we’ve been able to realize we are not the only ones who wish for less dogmatic conversations, more open heads, hands, and hearts, more freedom and harmony. Dearest phone, I am grateful for all these ways you nurture connection and creativity, yet I’m also glad to give you a break. I’m glad that I can set you down. I’m glad for the lightness of being I feel in the embrace of the nearby mountain lake where you will not go. I love the rush of the waves that would wash you away. I’m glad for the feeling of the cool mountain earth under my bare feet when I forget about you. I’m glad for the paint on my fingers. I’m most grateful for the human hugs of my twin boys and husband that have nothing to do with you. And I’m glad that you don’t care! I think we’ll get along just fine. 🙂