There was a time when even a simple notification could make my day special
There was a time when even a simple notification could make my day special; my eyes would glow up when I heard those custom notifications. All these notifications started very simple but mighty…
“Did you have your food?” or “Come, let’s have food.” | No, we were not physically present, but we did have all our meals together.
“Good morning,” followed by, “Are you awake? You have a session/lecture/work today……”
“Good night, come let’s go to sleep…” | No, we were living in two different places (at least physically).
“Did you have your meds?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Did you reach home?” / “I am going out” / “I am leaving for work (sending live location, which I will peak at every other second)” etc.
I might be doing the busiest thing or even driving in a rush, but I would stop just to respond to that notification. Because it’s the priority—not because of commitment, but because that’s the most beautiful part of my day. Even though it happened more often than the hour bell rings, that did not make it any less special. But…
Slowly it changed. I no longer use custom notification tones or nicknames... there can be many reasons, many differences, many delays, many truths, many selective stories, got to know my nickname is not just for me, realizing I am just a current replacement and so on...
Perhaps, the longer you stare at something, the more errors you will find; the more you know someone, the less you can love them.
When trust and the feeling of exclusiveness faded, so did the beauty of waiting for their notifications. The simple notifications that often lit up the day started feeling like a reminder of a long-lost trust, becoming an ache of what you wanted to forget and all the selective stories.
Maybe this is what they say:
"When you introduce vision to a person who lived his whole life as a blind person, and all of a sudden you pull that vision away from him, the regret, the pain that person will feel will be far ahead or far greater than what he felt if he never even knew the feeling of vision."
There was a time when a simple notification could make my day. But as with all good things, this had to end. Maybe for them, it's no longer my notification; it's someone else's.
Saadh Jawwadh
Just a curious person who wants to explore things and learn things, and we want to share everything we've learned. We'll be useful for others in our platform