This past summer, my phone fell and the screen shattered. Here’s the story:
The 2-year-old I was babysitting enjoyed making fake phone-calls using my phone to her mom and her “friend” Susan. I thought it was adorable, hearing her constantly ask what their plans were and gushing to them about how much she wished they were free to have a play date. Thus, each time she asked for my phone to make these “calls,” I reluctantly handed it over. It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when she pleaded for it once again. She called her mom and asked her how her day was going, saying “hi” every other word or so. Then, just as I thought the phone call was coming to an end, she turned her head to look over at me. That was all it took. It was as if I watched it happen in slow motion, as my pristine iPhone 6 fell all of 2 and a half feet, and landed perfectly facedown on the driveway. Hearing the smack it made when it hit the ground, I knew it couldn’t be good. But I was hopeful. Time and time again, I dropped my phone, and the god’s were on my side, leaving it perfectly functional and in one piece. I bent down and picked it up, turning it over slowly, as if that was providing any consolation for the reality I was coming face-to-face with. Before I knew it, I was staring at the once-perfect screen now in a million little pieces, making it near impossible to decipher the time, shown in large numbers on the home screen.
There is no real way to describe the feeling when you see that. We live in a day and age where our phones are our lifelines. It is as if they are a part of ourselves, where, without them, we are incomplete. Now, that sad fact is, however, true. Thus, when we lose the efficiency and perfection coming with the phone, something in us dies. That is until we can rebuild that up or get the screen fixed and replaced with a new one. I think one of the hardest facts to face is when the reason the screen is broken is partly your fault, as mine clearly was. Putting something so fragile and important in the hands of a 2-year old who doesn’t know better and has a strong track record for dropping just about anything, was not going to end up very differently.
When we first come to grips with what happens, it hurts. I recall thinking about how none of this would have happened if I were watching her more carefully or if we were on the grass and the fall could have been softened a bit. However, I have learned that we can think about all of the “If only I did this” hypotheticals, but it is not going to change anything about the present state of the problem. I sit here today with a crackless screen once again, but I also sit here knowing one other thing. We have to be careful with who we trust with the fragile things in our lives. Sometimes, it takes ignorance and a cracked screen to be wary of who can handle holding onto you and who will just let you slip through their fingers.
