Last night I had the privilege of being without my cell phone. It died because of my “negligence”, leaving home for the City without that vital charge. What’s worse (or better?), the charger was not in my handbag.
I watched as that green bar shrank, the warning appeared…YOUR PHONE IS DYING. CHARGE NOW!! My heart rate increased well beyond fat-burning as I wondered what I would do if someone needed to reach me. How would I know if my friends were running late? And what on Earth would I do without it to entertain me when I was riding the train home?
I could smell the most divine smells wafting from the shop next door to the restaurant. It was familiar…OMG, spa soap that took me back to Indian Springs. I could feel the hot stones, smell the minerals in the geyser-fed pools. My shoulders dropped. It felt as if I were melting into the bench outside the restaurant.
The sounds of jazz floated through the late afternoon air. Remembering those days working in a jazz club on the East Coast, I could taste the wine I shared with the greats….George Shearing, Earl “Fatha” Hinds, Charlie Byrd. It really did happen!
I heard the click of the restaurant door opening for the evening and as I walked inside, laughing with my sweet friends gathering to celebrate a birthday, I thanked God for the death of my phone.