the phone rang. I was in the kitchen. My Dad was coming up from the basement. We looked at each other. And then we both sprinted into the living room, trying to beat each other to the phone. I got there just before my Dad. Triumphant, I launched my arm into the air, holding the phone above my head, lording it over him.
And it was at that moment that I realized how bizarre we must have looked, teenage me racing my 60 year old dad to reach the phone first, both of us so eager to answer the call. To us though, a phone call is exciting. Every time someone called, it was like an adventure. You never knew who could be on the other end. We both love surprises, unexpected visitors, disruptions, change, noise, strangers. A telephone call meant all of this to us. It’s mysterious and exciting. It’s loud and disruptive. A second ago it was just you. Now suddenly there’s someone else in the room with you. That’s pretty damn magical. I miss the surprise. No one calls each other anymore.
The girl who just can't play it cool 