Even in my memories, I find myself importing today’s realities on ancient and archaic ways of communication. I imagine I texted my friends in college to meet me for dinner or called roadside assistance when my clutch went out. But I didn’t do those things.
I worry about the kids growing up in this. I’m worried they’ll never know what it’s like to sit quietly in any given moment long enough to dwell on good, true, and beautiful things, whether they are comfortable or uncomfortable.