My phone buzzed. The screen lit up a bright blue. Squinting into the light I could make out the bold black letters that spelled out
It turns out that if you're buried under an avalanche of boxes, you can reach one arm out to freedom while grasping your phone in order to use that opposable thumb as God intended it to be used.
"PLEASE HELP SEND CHOCOLATE"
the text might have read. Or perhaps
"911 CAN'T FIND COMPUTER."
"INTERNET DOWN. LOST LIFELINE."
"CONVICTED BY THE SELFISHNESS OF NO LONGER SHARING LILY'S PICTURES."
"I REALLY NEED TO LEAVE MORE COMMENTS ON DEANNA'S BLOG."
Or perhaps the text said none of those things, but merely shared normal moving frustration and sadness. And perhaps the text REALLY said that Patti won't have internet until next week, and that she misses all of you desperately, and that she needs encouragement and verbal help-me-ups and sanity assists. I volunteered to start it off by this incredibly moving blog post. I know, I really shouldn't have.
Patti- we miss you- come back SOON!
(Your turn? I'm sure Patti would love to hear from you if for nothing else than to tell her to stop giving me the password to her blog.)
p.s. If my daughter could text, they would all read the same thing:
(yes, she made up her own "chocolate" sign)
Now 1-2-3 GO