It was not long ago that people only had one phone number. It connected to a rotary phone which was attached to the wall. There were only seven digits in the number, and you waited until eleven at night or weekends to make long distance calls. Because there was a drop in price. 

John and I spent our nine month long engagement a thousand miles apart. He was in his last year of grad school and I taught seven delightful children in a spacious corner classroom with lots of windows. We wrote letters almost every day and called each other on Saturday mornings. My "Hello!" was always warm and affectionate. I would never have considered being terse, or snarky during those calls. 

As our children came along they began to be intrigued by the telephone. One in particular loved to answer it, whether or not it was for him. It just felt magical to talk to someone far away. We bought our share of plastic toy phones as well, so that the toddlers would leave the real one for grown ups.

Things have changed. For instance there are no busy signals, because someone invented call waiting. And voicemail. With the arrival of cell phones you do not need to be at home to receive a call, nor do you have to know the number by heart. You can push one button for your besties or simply say their name. You can even take pictures when you are not in conversation. 

Land lines still exist but they have lost much of their appeal. Often the ring turns out to be a solicitor from across the globe who mispronounces your name. So at our house it has been known to be completely ignored. The four people within ear shot are not motivated to walk twelve steps to answer.

Last week when John came home from work I had a list of favors to ask.

I don't think I even said hello. 

When my son came through the door I had requests of him too.

It occurred to me that I was less like the doting bride on the other end of a Saturday call and more like an overworked subcontractor in India.

Why would the people in my life even want to listen?