Don’t Look

I had just finished rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when my cell phone rang. I grabbed a towel. Who was calling?

My sister.

“Cover your eyes,” I said, draping myself with the towel. Water ran down my face.

She hung up.

Story_squareShould I call her back? Should I dry myself off first?

The phone rang again. It was my sister again. Oh, good, she’d accidentally hung up.

As I pushed the accept button, I noticed that she had used FaceTime this time.

Facetime is a video phone call.

Well, it was my sister and she only had to see my dripping hair.

“Why are you FaceTiming me?”  I have a knack for insightful questions.

“I wanted you to see my new tooth.” She’d just gotten an implant and so she stretched her mouth to reveal the bright tooth.

And then she started giggling. “Where are you?”

She tried to be polite. She really did. But her tale about the trip to the dentist and her report on her plans for her day were interrupted by snorts and chuckles.

When the techies worked on the chips and circuits that would allow us to combine phone calls with video, I think they had images of salesmen using charts to illustrate quarterly earnings. Or giggling babies reaching out to touch their grandmother who lived across the country. Or a soldier connecting with his wife and kids from a foreign country.

And I’ll bet all those things happen.

But I wonder if their vision ever included new teeth and dripping hair.

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