At the time of writing this, just over 24 hours have passed since I last heard from my husband. He is hunting in Zimbabwe and sent me a photograph of the camp yesterday afternoon. About an hour later, I replied, but my message never delivered.
I know the WiFi signal at camp is patchy in these remote areas, and when they are out hunting there is no signal at all. Still, the silence makes me uneasy. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I could not join him on this trip, which only fuels my FOMO.
Life Before Cell Phones
I reflect back on a time, not so long ago, when I was still single. I went about my days without expecting to be in constant contact with anyone. This changes when you start sharing your life with someone.
It makes me wonder: how did people live before the time of cell phones? I remember those days — women surely did not feel anxious when their husbands were away hunting, because they had no expectation of daily updates. They knew they would have to wait until their husbands returned. There were no phones wired into trees, and no instant photos. Even pictures from hunts had to wait until the film was developed before stories could be shared.
The Weight of Expectation
Now, when a message does not deliver, it lingers in my subconscious. It is not debilitating, but it sticks with me as I move through the day. At night, when I still haven’t heard from him, it takes me longer to fall asleep. That little whisper of worry creeps in — what if something has gone wrong?
It makes me think of the spouses of marines or those who serve in war zones. They don’t have the luxury of constant communication. Sometimes they don’t even know where their loved ones are. The waiting must be incredibly hard, though I suppose they grow accustomed to it. Perhaps in some ways, it mirrors the days before cell phones, when waiting was simply part of life.
The Question of Balance
I cannot say which is better — life before cell phones or the hyper-connected world we live in today. Each has its pros and cons. Technology moves at lightning speed, and we adapt as best we can.
But here’s what I do know: with each passing hour of not hearing from my husband, I feel more uncomfortable. I don’t like it. And yet, it seems to be the price of connection — the comfort it gives when it works, and the unease it stirs when it doesn’t.
“Technology is a useful servant but a dangerous master.”
— Christian Lous Lange
Wild Soul Notes 