The Great Phone Outage
It was my birthday. I was promised a special day, but aside from extra cuddles and baby talk, neither of which are edible, the festivities were disappointing. Thankfully, my friends met us on our morning walk to share their well wishes.
Then, as usual, Mom got on her computer and talked to people. The poet left to go out, and I waited in my usual spot by the window for him. But just as the sun started setting, something happened.
At first, my mom thought the white box on the windowsill had stopped working. The box connects her to other boxes so she can talk to people with her computer. Then she noticed that her phone wasn’t working, either. She looked at me and smiled. She gets really happy when the phone and computer box stop working. She doesn’t realize she can just turn them off.
She has much to learn.
She still had something important to do, and she thought the computer box at our local cafe might be working, so we walked there together. We passed our friend the sculptor on the way. Mom asked him if his phone was working. He said it was.
“That’s great!” Mom said, but I could tell she secretly felt bad for him.
We got to the cafe. You could tell that a lot of other people’s phones also weren’t working. The guy who owns the pub up the road had joined the old men who usually hang out in front of the cafe and they were all playing cards. He looked so happy. Our architect friend was there, too. She’d brought my friend, Moka. Moka and I have recently started seeing the same coiffeur, so we had much to discuss.
Also, the cafe was playing Christmas music. I’m pretty sure they knew it was my birthday today and wanted to mark its importance.
We sat at a table in the sun. I could tell Mum wanted to put her phone away, but felt like she had to Do Things and Be Productive. Finally, she shoved it in her bag and started writing in her notepad. She became so much happier. I remained in her lap, on high alert in case any of my less favourite street dogs came by.
My mom is still learning that if you keep chasing after things, you never actually catch them. She forgets that focusing on the negative stuff in life doesn’t take you anywhere. Humans do this a lot. As if you can’t enjoy the nice stuff unless you solve all your problems first.
As if the good things and hard things can’t co-exist.
That evening, on the way home form the cafe, we watched the colour of the sky change over the mountains. We chatted with our neighbours, even though Mom didn’t understand what they were saying. I saw her shoulders relax. We watched all the people outside, laughing and looking each other in the eyes. Paying attention.
“I wish this happened more often,” Mom said.
Then she added, “But at least it’s happening now.”
She’s a slow student, but, thankfully, a committed one.
I shall continue with my teachings.
Very good Django -- I do think you should continue your teachings with all possible speed. xoxox Your Fan in Perth, ON, Susan.