Call Me Back

I think I'm forgetting how to talk on the phone. Since the creation of the Text Message, i have used my phone for talking less and less. I text my brothers instead of calling them, and I prefer to send an email to actually speaking to a human being.

If you knew me in my teen years (before the invention of IM, TEXTING, and, EMAIL) you would know that the phone and I rarely parted company. Hour upon hour, spent talking into the speaker, the earpiece growing hot on my ear. Locked in the bathroom for privacy, while younger, more immature ears pressed themselves against the door in a vain attempt to eavesdrop. And always, the pounding on the door and the cry of war, "I NEED TO USE THE PHONE!!"

The battles for control of the phone were epic and ferocious. I've had telephones thrown at me, wrenched from my hands mid-sentence, the unfortunate listener traumatised by the sounds of struggle. My brother hit me with the family van in retaliation for ending his call prematurely. Yes, I have suffered the wages of war in attempts to liberate the phone from enemy hands. All for the pleasure to call my cousin and hastily whisper, "Call me back."

Ah yes, the final indignity: Long distance to my best friend, but not the other way. She could call me free of charge, I was not spared the cost. Through hours spent on the phone, we became quite savvy, coming up with codes for things we weren't allowed to talk about (boys, boyfriends, and S E X). Plots were hatched, plans developed, mischief made. Many a night of trouble started with the phrase, "Is Sarah there?"

Now the trouble begins with a chime and a pop up of "Sarah has just signed in". And the trouble does not entail sneaking out and meeting boys down the road, or dumping a can full of trash into a car and running barefoot from the police. No, now it begins, "Why are you up so late?"

The irony of the post is my brother called and I was talking to him on the phone while I wrote this