WHEN WE WERE APART


There were no cellphones back then. Back then, when we were apart, we wrote letters to each other. On legal pads, or binder paper. In black ballpoint pen, cursive slanting across the lines.


I wonder what you'd be like, electronically, if you were still here. Would you poke at your phone all day? Would you take it to bed with you at night? Would you post photographs of your dog? It's strange to think of you in cyberspace after knowing you so well in pen and ink. And in person.


I fantasize that you would be my digital role model. I imagine that the phone would be just an object in your life, an item that you found useful, but not consuming or distracting. I envision that what you did all day would be the thing, not that the phone would be the thing that alleviates the boredom in what you did.


It's bewitching to dream up your digital life.