I very clearly remember the days without any type of messenger on my phone. Most of the communication with friends was limited to text messages or phone calls. Oh, the endless phone calls - I still miss those! And moreover, I miss the time I had for them. One hour, two hours of talking about everything and nothing with friends.
But the texts were special. You had a limited number of characters, so you had to restrain yourself and find the right way to express what you wanted to say in that limited space. I clearly remember the tone of the gray screen and geometric letters and numbers filling it. Although I feel a lot of joy when it comes to the old phone calls days, I don’t have much sentiment when it comes to text messages.
Except for certain ones that I got from special people of course - my family, close friends, and people who were special at that given moment (I was a teenager after all; it was easy to be special). Every time I would change a phone I would move those special messages to a new one. Those messages were stored and transferred from a Nokia to a Nokia. Being a sentimental type and very young, those messages gave me strength and courage. I guess they showed me and reminded me that someone loved me and believed in me.
One of those messages, the one that lived on all my non-smart phones, was a message I got from the Luxembourg garden. It was very long time ago, and although most of the time I haven’t romanticized Paris, there was something incredibly enchanting in getting a message from the Luxembourg garden, and from one of the people that I love the most.
The message was simple; it said something like: 'I am sitting on the green chairs of the Luxembourg garden. It’s sunny, and there is a man playing saxophone in front of a giant plane tree. Wish you were here; you’d enjoy it.'
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Sonja Bajic Creative to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.