In the middle of a week of war and chats with the president, it seemed like a small matter: Hurriedly checking my cell phone, then checking my contact list, I scrolled past the name of a friend who has recently died — a number that is no more.
Perhaps out of curiosity, and remembering this great guy, I tried to dial that number, morbidly wondering what the voice on the other end might sound like. I got one of those recordings saying the number has been disconnected — just like my friend, just like his life.
Once a vital, vibrant, "gotta call" name in my contact list is soon forgotten, now sadly removed from my contact list.
I guess I'm not saying anything profound here. Maybe just the things and names and routines we take so much for granted, change. Sometimes we don't even know it, until we see it, in black and white. In a digital readout of a friend once on speed dial, no longer dial-able at all.
Number gone, address gone, friend gone.
I began to think less of the rush of the moment and more of the fragility of a list of names at that moment.
My phone was oblivious. For this one quiet, but jarring moment, let's just say, I was not.
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