It was one of those mornings. Six a.m. came so early I couldn’t at first figure out that it was my alarm clock ringing like mad. The cats mewed for their food, the dog had to go out. What to wear on a bone-chilling morning that would turn into an Indian summer afternoon? Had I left wet clothes in the washing machine? I got ready in a flash and raced out the door.
Miracle of miracles, my bus was rounding the corner just as I locked my car. Whew. I had a moment to catch my breath before it hit me: I’d left my phone back at the house.
A cell phone is every commuter’s best friend. I got my very first one many years ago after being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for hours, my family not knowing where I was until a kind stranger insisted I use her phone to call home.
Now I wanted to borrow someone’s phone to call a list of people to tell them I was out of commission for the day, no texts, use my office phone, but we work in cubicles so limit the personal business. I knew my older daughter’s number but not the younger one–why memorize it when it was programmed into my phone?
As soon as I got to the office I called my daughter, Louisiana. “If you need me, call the office. I forgot my phone.” Up late after studying, a groggy Lulu agreed to do so–which is what she would have done anyway if she couldn’t reach me on my cell, she said. I’d woken her up for nothing. Except she did give me her sister Evie’s number.
I left a message. The kids’ phones had to stay in their lockers. Maybe Evie would notice that she had a voicemail before going straight to volleyball practice after school. Although kids don’t listen to voicemail messages from their mothers. They just hit redial. Good, then she’d get me at the office!
Who else should I call? I wondered. My own mother? Evie’s friends’ mothers, just in case? Why did I think the whole world had to know I was without the benefit of texting today? Why didn’t I just assume the day would progress as usual, without incident, without a minor crisis that called for my phone to be constantly on my person?
Angels, I’m being tested. Please help me pass. But don’t text me, I don’t have my phone.
