It had only been
a few hours, but I was already beginning to see the signs and feel the symptoms
of the onset of withdrawal. My hands began to shake so fiercely that it took
every fiber in my being to clench them tightly, as I frantically shoved them
into the fleece pockets of my navy quarter zip. I continued to walk, with
nothing but the sound of crunching leaves under my feet, and the crisp winter
air stinging my face. Searching for anything that might serve as a shield
against the harsh coldness, I nuzzled my face into the warm security of my wool
scarf.
Closing my eyes,
I embraced the sweet smell of my Daisy perfume, and slowly began to forget
about the cold. It was not until some time had passed that I began to notice an
unfamiliar presence. The unannounced presence was unfamiliar and exotic, yet
for some reason made me quiver. When I finally realized the foreign presence’s
true identity, I was struck with the fear one can only associate with at a time
of severe desperation. The presence belonged to a stranger who brought nothing
more than twisted thoughts and insane delirium.
As the presence
steadily grew stronger, I was forced to open my eyes and face the elements.
Once my sense of bearing returned, I began to hastily walk through the vast acreage,
which my father’s house sat upon. Feeling twigs break under my shoes, I quickly
traveled through the wooded area and approached the front door. As I slid my
frozen feet out of the scuffed up leather boots that armored them, I searched
for an explanation.
It didn’t take
long for me to realize what had happened. My desire for even the slightest source
of connection to the outside world was in the process of driving me insane.
Praying that such measures like lobotomy would not have to be resorted to, I
walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of tea so hot that I could
feel the steam emanate throughout my pores. As I let the steam and scent of
jasmine fill my senses, I regained my composure and set out to find my sister.
It was our first
thanksgiving ever to be celebrated in East Texas, at our dad’s new ranch. My sister and I had only ever stayed a night at a time since his move from the
city. Unaware of the lack of cell phone reception and Internet connection, we
came fully prepared with all of our technological outlets to channel the
virtual world. As you can imagine, we were quite shocked when, 5 miles from our
destination, we began to lose reception. With each declining bar, a heightened
sense of fear crept over us. What were we going to do for three days without
phones or Internet?
Our fear was put
to ease as soon as we entered our father’s house. He greeted us with open arms
and a warm embrace, exclaiming that he hoped we hadn’t gotten lost. Already
prepared for the day’s events, we loaded up the back of his silver F150 with
his most astute collection of rifles and pistols. As we approached his domestic shooting range, which sat under the tall shade of a large oak tree, I emanated
nothing but excitement.
It wasn’t until
I saw my dad taking pictures of us shooting that I suddenly began to feel the presence
of the sleek silhouette of my iPhone 4 in my back pocket. Reaching for it, I
hesitated, weighing the risk I would be taking at missing my turn on the firing
line. As I returned my hand to its former position on the smooth metal of a
Smith and Wesson 9mm, I concentrated on nothing but shooting my target.
It wasn’t until
later that evening, sitting around the perspiring heat of a glowing bonfire,
that I desired to once again check my phone. I wearily reached for it, and was
overwhelmed with a sense of terror. The once-prized possession I had pleaded
for so long to get was no longer where I had left it. Brusquely, I rose to my
feet, and began my trek back up to the house.
As the cold seemed
to wrap me up in a chilling embrace, impossible to escape, I finally reached
the front door. I walked to the kitchen, only to find a pot of boiling water, my
sister had been preparing, whistling at me. Immediately, I made myself a cup of hot tea, feeling
the worry inside me slowly dissipate with each warming sip, and then called out to my sister. What surprised me most was that instead of asking her where my phone was, I rather asked her if she wanted to roast some marshmallows and make s'mores.
I ended up finding my phone the next day in the seat of my dad's truck.
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