I lost my damned wifi password today.
And, of course, I never bothered to write it down for myself, because it was stored in my phone, so why bother, it was right there.
I wrote it down once for OnlySon, but, like all good tragedies, his room was struck by a cyclone before I could get to the Post-it note, and he’s not here to find the grumble-fucking thing for me.
During my rip-tear-toss of a search around the house, I decided to try my rusty, trusty… (Drumroll please ****)
YES, this is a thousand years old, the binding is cracked & in desperate need of some form of bonding agent, but!
It’s also a vehicle of time travel.
Honestly, I think I picked this book up at Ben Franklin in the little town I used to hang out in, my senior year of high school… It. Is. That. Old.
My Mom always told me to write addresses into these books in pencil. (wicked, morbid woman).
Because you know what pencil means…right??
It makes my heart hurt & my brain ache, just thinking about all the names my mom would’ve had me erase from this book if I’d kept following her stricture.
But…I’m an ink-pen kinda girl.
Yeah, some of the names in my address book are written in pencil, but I’ve still never erased One.Damn.Name.
Ohhhh, I’ve scribbled out a few, hooo boy, yah I have.
My Grandma’s name, last home address and phone number are still written in this book, and she’s been gone a couple of years now.
My friend, Shane, he’s still in the book…and he passed away quite a few years ago from a cancerous brain tumor.
A great aunt & uncle, both passed, many years ago… Still in the book.
Friends I haven’t talked to in years, but if I saw them on the street tomorrow, I’d hug the crap out of them?
Still in the book.
Multiple addresses for my male sibling… Some crossed off, some not, none current. All still there.
People’s names, addresses, and/or phone numbers that I haven’t thought about or used in years, they’re probably no good anymore…
But when I look at their name in that old handwriting, I’m suddenly transported back to whatever time of my life that was, & remember that person.
And…in the back of the book…carefully scribbled
Important numbers belonging to people I cannot forget – my children, my parents.
For a book small enough to easily fit in the back pocket of my jeans…
There’s a whole lot of living time crammed into those pages.
Step lively, step lightly, but step forward.
No, I never found the damned wifi password. I’ll call the cable co. tomorrow. Dammit.