I wonder what it would be like to see your name light up my phone
Three simple white letters lighting up against the black
As it pulsates across the table.
I don’t get calls often.
These days it’s mostly telemarketers
With area codes from places I haven’t lived in years,
Or doctors with test results.
I wonder if that would be different if I had your name saved to my SIM card —
If I could type in one letter and the auto-predict would bring your three to the top of the list.
Would it be three letters?
An overly formal 6?
What would I have typed into this shiny piece of plastic if you had made it to 2015?
If we hadn’t lost you before iPhones were invented or before I got my first?
Before cell phones were even seriously a thing?
I didn’t have one when you died.
You had one though.
And we called that number when we knew it all ended,
Knowing the end of those ten rings would bring us to a voicemail —
A voicemail we were too choked to leave and we knew you would never answer.
Still, it brought us to your voice
At least for a while.
I wonder what name for me you would have saved
And how many times I would have felt you saving me
Simply by seeing three letters light up a piece of plastic
Bringing me back to the glow of your voice.