Where Are You?

It’s a weird new world.

Been going on for years, of course, but there was once a time when you’d leave your house, and you’d just be gone until you showed up home again.

Now, of course, you’re expected...

...all the time.

“Where are you?”

“I’ll be home in ten minutes. Oh, GPS says 11 minutes.”

I remember the days when you could swing by the bar on the way home and not be ‘caught’ unless someone actually drove on by. 

The phone behind the bar would ring and six guys would all shout out, “I’m not here!”

Now?

“I checked the tracker on the phone.”

Or even worse.

“I texted you.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It said that you read it.”

I bring this all up because I am the only one in my home who actually reads texts or answers calls pretty much immediately.

I am also unbelievably impatient.

“Yo,” I’ll write. “‘Sup?”

Then I wait.

“You there?”

A few minutes more.

“Hello???”

Perhaps it’s the writer in me but I start imagining things. Worst-care scenario type stuff. That’s the very definition of anxiety.

Now, I try my best, especially lately to just wait. The usual response I get is:

“What’s up? I wasn’t looking at my phone.”

“Nothing.”

So, I’m not actually sure that it’s all a good thing.

I do enjoy texting the boys if there is too much noise downstairs.

“Turn it down.”

“Okay, sorry.”

Guess we’ll all have to see where this leads...

...there ain’t no more hiding out though.