Sin Zapato

Small miracle

As this universe and my luck would have it, I was in conversation with someone this morning whose spouse is addicted to his phone.

He walks around with it as if it were un órgano interno, she says. Never putting it down. His head buried in its contents for hours at a time.

I feel for the man. There’s a lot to be buried under. I hope he finds his way out.

On this third day, during which I did exactly zero scrolling through any of my Big Three (Facebook, Threads, Instagram), I am feeling just fine. No FOMO, no itch, no disorientation. The few times that I reached for my phone to scroll, I simply remembered that it was a “not today” day, that I’d deleted every app, and either moved on to whatever I’d planned next or daydreamed.

Remember daydreaming?

I do too.

A little later in the day, a gift arrived in the mail, one I’d purchased for myself just a few days ago in support of my off-screen efforts.

It was a watch. Not an Apple or a Garmin or a Fitbit. No sir. This was 36MM dial in a stainless-steel case with a deep blue second hand and crown. Nothin’ but time on a camel-colored leather strap. Because I wanted one less reason to look at my phone. It is the sexiest thing alive.

Remember turning your wrist to check for the time?

I do too.

When I went to the gym in the evening, I actually thought I might leave my phone behind all together, but I quickly remembered my need to stay connected in case my Madre needed me. And hey, I like keeping track of my strength-building routine on my lifting app. Progress matters. So I caved and shoved it into my coat pocket. Funny, though, that when I got out of my car at the gym and started walking toward the entrance, I felt light. Unencumbered. Water bottle in my left hand, lifting gloves in my right.

Wait. Where’s my phone?

I’d left it in the car. Riding shotgun.

Remember being out and about without access to the world in your pocket?

I do too.

I’m headed off to bed now, no less worried about the world, but a little less connected to the chaos, and grateful to keep bumping into my old self. It’s no small miracle.

S