I lost my phone.
I thought about all of the contacts that were now gone.
And then I realized that I didn't know who a lot of them were. In fact, I kept accidentally texting one woman for a play date and she kept writing back that she didn't have any children. I have no idea who she is. I think that she will be happy that I lost my phone, because I am afraid to delete her in case I actually do know who she is and will need to call her one day. So, I kept her in my phone, thinking that next time I accidentally text her, I will find out how we could know each other. Maybe there was a moment where we liked each other enough to trade numbers. Or I liked her enough to take hers and she didn't like me at all and that is why she deleted me from her phone and doesn't know who I am when I text.
I was sad about my pictures.
What am I supposed to do at the end of the day if I can't recap my children's lives via the 100 videos and pictures that I took that day? But then I wonder what it would be like to not take a picture when I see something adorable, like my son wearing giant sunglasses or my daughter waddling toward me with a huge smile on her face. Do those sorts of things live in a feeling anymore or only if we have a picture of them? Will I remember the sweetness of my daughter hurling herself into my arms if there isn't some sort of visual verification of the moment? I can't remember if I am wearing matching socks today, so probably not. Yup.They match. Just looked down at my feet and checked.
I realized that I wasn't bored.
I had no idea if my Facebook friend Andy from high school had eaten soup for lunch and slept well last night and I couldn't find out what my inner potato was through Buzzfeed, which was disappointing. But upon further thinking about it, I guess that it is OK, because I think that I would be a French fry. But not a sweet potato fry or curly fry. Just a plain old French fry. And although Buzzfeed's confirmation on that would be helpful, I am pretty sure that I am right.
Also, while I wasn't bored, I noticed that it is nice to actually just sit and look up at what is around me when I have a free moment. I made many amazing discoveries. The world is quiet. It isn't always flashing pictures at me or telling me how it feels in one sentence or helping me to analyze myself. It is pretty quiet. And slow. I found five squirrels that use my backyard as a jungle gym. They leap and frolic and race each other over the branches and up and down the tree trunks. They are beautiful to watch. And when my son offers me up a toothy, giggly grin, I have two free hands to squeeze his little cheeks. And sometimes there is this lovely sound that takes over everything. I wouldn't call it quiet. It is more than that.
Silence. There is no place to look and nothing in particular to see.
There is just silence.
It is so rare.
I wish that I could take a picture of it.
Guess I will have to wait until I get my phone back to do that.