Anne Peterson

Healing words for wounded souls.

What I miss

I have read about how technology is somehow mimicking our earlier years in school. That getting tweets with twitter is like having your yearbook signed. The more, the better. Some didn’t seem to care about who signed their book, as long as there remained little white space.

Well, maybe that applied to some kids, but not me. Instead I reserved a whole page here and there for those people in my life who mattered most. And they had no trouble filling the page with memories we had made for those years.

Yeah, I hoped this guy I had a crush on would write something magical, and maybe I did ask someone to sign my book just because he/she sat a row from me and was one of the so called cool kids, but, I didn’t ask everyone. I cared more about content. 

Our world now seems to celebrate numbers more than people. People become numbers. I’m not a fan of that.

I hate running to the phone to find out I am listening to a computerized call. I resent that they use a phony hello, pretending to care I’m even on the phone. They are not calling to talk to me, they are talking at me.

Used to be you’d go to the phone, surprised to hear from a friend. You’d catch up, uninterrupted, and then replay the conversation in your mind for days afterwards.

Now instead, someone texts you, with a few minutes to kill and their fingers are itching for something to do. And just as quick as they text into your day, they text out. 

Guess I’m missing things the way they used to be, and the people who would give you our most precious commodity, time. I’m thinking especially of one person. When I went by her house. Once she filled her cup of coffee and sat down she was all yours.

There were no calls she had to take. In fact, sometimes she would make sure someone else answered her ringing telephone. 

But maybe I’m funny. I also miss going to the mailbox and seeing familiar writing. I don’t think many people write notes by hand any more.  

Perhaps I’m not the only person who is missing the way we used to communicate.

What do you miss most about the past?

About Anne Peterson

I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.

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