I’d just survived another daunting lefthand turn onto the busy highway outside of my community when it dawned on me: I. forgot. my. cell. phone. Usually by now there would be music automatically playing in my car after the bluetooth synchronized with my chosen playlist on my cell phone. But, it was quiet in my car. Very quiet. Beautifully quiet.
I tried…I really did…I tried to get upset and even panic about this moment, but strangely, I couldn’t. For a fleeting moment I thought, “What if I get into an accident? What if my car breaks down?” But almost immediately this thought was superceded by a natural slow deep breath as my grip on the steering wheel relaxed.
I realized that I was free.
I was driving to Walmart, all of 7 minutes away from my house, 4 if I made the lights, maybe 40 minutes if I walked the distance. I smiled. What if? I’d survived the majority of my life without a cell phone. My mind flashed back to the days when I was a teenager driving home late at night in Los Angeles: without a cell phone. I’d been in accidents: without a cell phone. I traveled for six weeks through Europe at the age of 18: without a cell phone (and only two brief collect calls home to my parents, because that’s all we could afford).
I made the effortless left hand turn onto the next highway, still smiling now, as the wonderful memories of freedom before cells floated through my mind. I felt the muscles of my body relax even more and as I sank into the driver’s seat, it was reminiscent of lazy summer days driving down Pacific Coast Highway in the late 80s, smelling the intoxicating scent of the fresh ocean breeze mixed with exhaust fumes. In just a few unexpected moments, I felt more in control of my life than I ever did making that lefthand turn onto that crazy busy highway just moments earlier.
Just an hour before this moment I was at home raging about the fact that every time I turn around I have to charge a device, whether it’s my phone, computer, Air buds, closet lights, bluetooth speaker. Every time I had to charge something, it was draining me!
Forgetting my cell phone felt like a “get out of jail free” card! I was no longer prisoner in that cell. And, funny…I thought about how cell phones are even measured in worth by how many “bars” there are. Five bars and it’s good to go as it sucks the energy and life out of me!
I thought about the days driving home from high school when I was 17, and how I would listen to the radio with the window down, my hair blowing in all directions. Ah, back in the day when we could actually roll the window down with a hand crank. Best feeling in the world. But now I had to hit the button to “roll” it down automatically in order to simulate the past.
I turned on the radio to an oldies’ station and spent the next 5 glorious minutes driving to Walmart in absolute blissful freedom, listening to the band Chicago, with Peter Cetera belting out the words, I am alive again!
As Peter sang so beautifully, his words made me think of God and all of the friends, family, and total strangers who have filled my life with love.
All the empty yesterdays have disappeared,
now that you have filled my life with love.
No one could ever mean so much to me.
I parked at Walmart and felt the freedom of not having to unhitch my cell phone from the charger in my car “because someone might steal it.” I tucked my keys in my good ol’ fanny pack, tied it around my waist, and except for my keys, a credit card, driver’s license, and a couple of tissues it was strangely light. I felt so good that I nearly skipped my way through the store like a little kid.
When I got home I walked into my house, put my groceries away, ate some breakfast, until I finally realized (five minutes before I had a business call to make) that I needed to find my cell phone. I searched the usual places, but it wasn’t there.
Then, I found it by my bedside. Apparently the cell hadn’t been a thought in my mind all morning. Somehow, I just walked away from it. How refreshing! I sighed as I held that odd boxy shape in my hand (nothing like the soft comforting curve of the old landlines). I dutifully turned the sound on, typed in the password to which my cell phone shook its head, “Wrong! No entry!” And, I thought, “Exactly. I wish I didn’t have to do this anymore.”
Nevertheless, I typed in the password again and I was automatically back in my cell.
I look forward to escaping again tomorrow morning when I can, by choice, spend even more time no longer behind bars.
