forgetting

We recently got rid of our home phone (welcome to 2006! a friend told us) to solely use our cell phones.  This means we got rid of our home phones.  I was ready to unplug this last connection to somewhat archaic technology when my husband asked, “Do you need to pull anything off of it?”

“Of what?” I asked.

“The answering machine,” he answered.

I thought for a long moment and then realized what he was gently reminding me of.

I have two messages from my mother on my answering machine.

I had forgotten, you see, that I had those.  I haven’t listened to them, but I certainly don’t want to lose them.  I have one saved on my voicemail, but two–precious two!–on the answering machine.

As always, she began with, “It’s just mom.”

I almost started crying because I would have lost those two precious messages had it not been for the reminder from my husband.  And they would have been gone forever.

I am forgetting what she looked like, what she smelled like.  Things are getting hazy in my memory.  But I have her voice.  And I will now have it forever, as long as technology doesn’t fail me.

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