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Talking Just to Talk

I watched the phone ring. I had just gotten home from a day at work and dealt with the general 45 minute ride home. I came home, cooked, and sat down to finally eat the meal I’d prepared. And then the phone began to ring.

I didn’t want to talk. As it rang, I realized that I was avoiding capture. Talking on the phone meant surrendering my personal time to engage in minutes of dialogue that I didn’t mentally plan for. Conversations have become a burden and I’m not sure when this happened.

Perhaps I fell victim to the communication gap boomers with Forbes credentials write about. Well, no. I mean, I mostly converse with loved ones and friends via cell and its respective apps. For birthdays and holidays, I attempt to send handwritten cards. But there are certain names that I always answer when they call. Parents and grands, mostly. Anyone who will keep the call short and cute.

That’s not to say that I loathe conversations that are longer than a sitcom. I just value silence. I rarely get a chance to just be alone or soak up the void. As an introvert, I feel sensitive to the chatter I consume on a daily basis. I receive more than I output. It’s… a lot. So I prefer to watch the phone ring.