Oops… I forgot to text back

Oops.. I forgot to text back.

Did you miss me?

I’m sorry, I’ve been running from work to dinners to shows to sushi to coffee to pilates to… 

I know, I’ve been running too fast. 

Let’s catch up, how are you? Good, I hope. 

In high school, my classmates knew I was unreliable at best with text messages. I’ve always had an excuse. Gymnastics, homework, family, my terrible memory. 

While I’d love to argue that I’ve gotten much better with time, there’s always something about a text message that slips my mind. 

What is a text anyway? It’s something I get to when I get to it. It’s an optional communication that I often try to schedule in my day. I’ll answer when I’m done with the gym, after work maybe, I just need to finish this task, perhaps once I’m out of the metro. Days go by, sometimes weeks, and my occasional ‘Shit, I haven’t responded’, continues to get postponed. 

Your favorite communication major struggles slightly when it comes to actual communication. A few hours ago I watched as the phone rang over and over again. I called again. How dare my mom not answer me? I’m the light of her life, literally what could be more important? I went to call my mom again, then switched at the last second and called my brother instead. He answered the phone, annoyed, and asked, ‘Do you really not read your texts?”. Sheepishly, I glanced at my messages, “Ma wants you to know she forgot her phone at home”. Shit. 

What is a text?

A gasp of horror normally escapes the lips of anyone who has seen my phone or has made the mistake of glancing at my computer. Little red circles encroach my apps, thousands of notifications unopened, tens of tabs waiting for attention. 

Suddenly, the notifications and the constant pings mean something different now. Now it’s my mom calling, my long-distance bestie telling me about her day in a winding voice note, my friend reaching out to plan our coffee date, the cute boy from the other night asking, “is 8 pm fine?”. 

When your worlds are separated, when your community crosses time zones, previously tedious and annoying messages become a beacon. They’re a beam of light in the haze, they’re a little note slid across your desk, they’re the rhythmic tap of a secret childhood language saying ‘Hey you… I’m thinking of you’. 

So, to my people, thank you for reaching out. Thank you for signing your love from across the ocean. Also, (and my people know this), if you want to talk to me, don’t text, call me.