You might not want to borrow my phone today. In fact, I don’t even want to borrow my phone. She went down without a fight. Overboard. Into the deep brown sea.
Like a mother diving in without a thought to rescue a drowning child, my hand shot to the very bottom with hopes of a successful retrieve, minus the mouth-to-mouth. Funny enough, the other day, I was thinking that I should sign up for a CPR class. Things happen when you least expect them. Not when you worry about them day and night like a mother does. In this case, my CPR certification would have included reading that silly article about what to do when your phone becomes submerged in “water”.
My first thought was to dry her off before she realized where she’d landed. But I just couldn’t. So I turned on the faucet available next to me, and quickly ran her under a stream of water. The three capsules of magnesium I took before bed last night came to mind. A natural muscle relaxant, the chiropractor had said. Helps with consistent bowel movements and really cleans you out.
I quickly ran up to the computer to Google up what to do in a case like this. The Internet wouldn’t work. A joke? I glanced over at her. Her battery lay off to the side, her shell next to it. I picked up her pathetic body, examining it as if I had any knowledge of her workings. It was strange how this brilliant metal contraption took on a human format. Everything I had invested into it these past few years lay there lifeless, perhaps now data-free. Worse yet, how would anyone reach me today? This wasn’t the 90’s. My husband might call to ask me how to spell a word. My grown kids might call to tell me how a band practice went, or ask me the difference between baking soda and baking powder. My friend might try to call at the last minute to cancel our Happy Hour meeting. Then I realized the refridgerator repair guy was supposed to call me today, and who else? At least today I wouldn’t be annoyed with that constant recorded message about qualifying for a lower credit something or other.
Then it occurred to me. I have a hair dryer. I gathered up her three pieces and we headed to the bathroom. She screamed a silent scream as we passed the toilet. I marveled at how that battery could hold so much information. A battery? Wait a minute. It’s a battery. Batteries don’t hold information. Then I looked closer. There is was. A tiny prosciutto-thin chip, still neatly tucked into a slot. I pulled it out, turned it over, and saw a bead of water on it. A ray of hope. I turned the hairdryer on and off, willing the warm air to heal, then packaged up her parts for another try. No luck. I blew dried her again. Still no luck. So I literally left her out to dry while I washed up, combed my hair, and got dressed.
Moments later, I tried again. A tiny little hourglass appeared, turning; she was coming back to life. Her name appeared next, “BlackBerry”. A white line moved across her body, filling her with new breath. Patiently, I waited. Okay, not so patiently. Then it happened. She started talking to me. Asking me to confirm the current date and time. I panicked. How did I know what day or time it was? She always told me those things. She suggested the date. I hit “OK”.
And then, there he was. My husband, smiling at me with that “Hurry and take the picture” look. My screensaver had kicked in, bright and clear. My emails popped up, and I was alive again. I would have my family, friends, and life back. I would be whole again. I would even appreciate the phone I had come to complain about, thinking she wasn’t as smart as the “smart” models who were taking over the world.
Somewhere in all of this, I know there is a lesson to be learned. What lesson do YOU see in this experience?