6718 calls. A little over 9 calls a day.
339:54:20 hours/minutes/seconds. That’s roughly 14 days, or 2 weeks, I’ve spent on the phone in the past 2 years.
It’s been a good phone. I’ve dropped it a million times, in snow, rain, mud, the sink, on the hardwood floor. All over. I’ve let it die, lost its charger, left it in bathrooms, at home, at work. I’ve found out that I had a new baby in the family, I’ve found out I’ve lost someone, on this phone. Some has said “I love you” and “I hate you” and “I can’t believe I said that” and “I can’t believe you said that” and “I can’t believe he said that to her” on this phone. Someone has texted me a love note, an angry message, a hello, a goodbye, a welcome home, a see ya next time, an xoxo. Someone has called to say “hi” or “hello” or “miss you” multiple times, called to ask about pizza nights, parties, events, to do nothing at all. We’ve made plans, broken them, made some more, and called to talk about the event afterwards with this phone. Cor has used it. Becca. Lauren. K, SS, and M, at some point. Nikki, too, when I’m home. Jeff on occasion. It’s called Connecticut, Massachussetts, New York, Michigan, California, Virginia, Florida, and been from one coast to the other itself, not to mention to China. What a luckily thing.
It’s been a good phone. Tomorrow it’ll be gone, replaced by an iPhone, a bigger, better, more breakable phone. And I will love my new phone, but sometimes, I will miss the memories of this one.