Prepaid phone card

Past: I have had two opportunities to attend weeklong yoga retreats nestled deep in the Adirondack Mountains where the scent of all that green was intoxicatingly fresh; the big, blue sky within arm’s reach; and the wildlife our dorm mates. The opportunity to unplug from all of life’s daily to-do’s and just tap into what’s going on inside was pretty powerful. It also make me kind of cranky. I attributed this to (a) a decided lack of ice cream and other sugary goodies; (b) an overload of time spent with shiny, happy people; and (c) not being able to call or e-mail my ultra-grounded counterpart back home whenever I wanted. My days were highly regimented—and that brought out my inner rebel. This caused me to do something childish: I stole a 100-calorie strawberry shortcake-flavored granola bar from the retreat facility’s conference center. The sweet, crunchy goodness did take away some of my crank, but I have felt guilty about my pilfering all these years later.

The photo here transports me back to the lighter, carefree moments that comprised the majority of my time spent in the Adirondacks. Taken through a window screen, these two deer were minding their own business, munching and exploring and doing whatever it is that deer do while we were practicing our half moons. The woman who was running the retreat had a book about animal symbolism with her and told us these deer represented a gentle lure to adventure. Beckoning us, I believe, to let go of whatever we were holding on to and go with the flow. Whenever I feel the clench of stress overcoming me, I try to remember back to the deer outside our window.

So, what does any of this have to do with a prepaid phone card? The one phone available to us was a payphone located in the conference center—about two feet away from where I swiped that granola bar. And as much as I would have liked to, I never came close to using all 480 minutes of domestic call time that I paid for on two phone cards.

Present: With no plans on the horizon to travel someplace where the cell phone tower signals can’t find me—and a cell phone plan that gives me free nights and weekends—I really didn’t have any use for this phone card. Plus, I thought that perhaps by giving it away, I could earn a karma point our two back for swiping the granola bar.

The Craigslist response to my ad that caught my attention was from someone named Trang who was new to America and had hoped to use the phone card in order to be able to call his or her family in California during the day from work. I’ve got to admire someone who’s not only trying to make a go of it in a new country, but who is also respectful enough of his or her employer not to be making personal calls on the company dime. I, the granola bar snatcher, should be so virtuous.