"iPhone 4"

 

            In the early spring of 2020, I dropped by our local Sprint store to eyeball new phones with the idea of replacing my phone as a Christmas gift from my husband and son. We budget for high dollar purchases, and although Christmas was ten months away, it would take us that long to put aside a chunk of money for something new and fancy!

            “How can I help you?” The young salesman honed onto us the moment we crossed the threshold.

            “I need to look at new phones to get an idea of prices.”

            “Let me get your information, and we’ll see if you’re eligible for a new phone under your plan.”

            I snickered. My son rolled his eyes. We love watching the response of clerks when they check our information.

            “You want to replace--- an iPhone 4?” The other two phones on our account are relatively new.

            “Yes.”

            “A 4?”

            “Yep.”

            “Do you have it with you?”

            I pull the phone out of my purse pocket.

            “Does it work?” A little incredulity enters his voice.

            “Of course.”

            Awe and wonder enter his eyes. “Can I hold it?”

            I hand him my phone.

            “Claire!” he calls out to one of his coworkers. “Look at this! An iPhone 4 that’s still working!”

            “Are you serious? Let me hold it!”

            My jaw dropped as the two passed my phone back and forth, discussing the novelty of its smaller size and reduced capacity along with the wonder that it still held a charge. Unknowingly, I’d brought in an artifact that delighted these two, very young employees.

            While they delighted over my museum piece, I checked out the newest phones available and tried not to pass out over the prices. I mumbled to myself repeatedly, “It’s not just a phone. It’s a computer. You’re buying a computer that lets you talk to people. It’s a computer more than a phone.”

            I narrowed down the possible phone to replace my artifact, made certain my son knew which one would best suit my needs, and returned to the counter to collect my phone as it had traveled to the back of the store for more personnel’s amazed admiration.

            “Did you decide on a new phone?” our first clerk asked.

            “Yes. It’s for a gift. For later. Someone will be back.” I held out my hand to retrieve my phone. The young man seemed reluctant to let the old thing go. “Thanks for your help.”

            “No! Thank you! We’ll be talking about this all day!”

 

Copyright 2021 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

       

 

 

"In a Fishbowl"

            Months ago I stepped out of my busy life and entered a protected zone. I had no responsibility beyond staying home and staying well. For the first time in my life, I found myself pausing in place—in a fishbowl.

            I had plenty of food. My light was filtered and gentle. The water was clear and clean. I felt safe, secure and sheltered. This illusion drew me into complacency. The glass distorted my worldview and left me floating without danger while the world beyond me crashed and burned.

            Within my fishbowl, I drifted through the days, my vision focused on the tragedies and losses playing out beyond my transparent shield. It was easy to lull myself into a false serenity that one day, life’s normalcy would return.

            Going back, though, to “before” is self-deception. I’ve learned that once I leave this insulated world, I will need to find new and different goals for myself.

 

Copyright 2021 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman