Ah, yes. Not that long ago, the phone was a convenient way to talk with people. It was a miracle really; one could talk with just about anyone at any time. Distance was rendered irrelevant by a black box with a cord, a clever handset, and a dial.

I got a new miracle today. An android. It appears that this phone is capable of setting off World War III, and I am not that good with it. You have been warned.

Serioulsy, the android funcitons as a phone, but that is really not why it exists. The android exists to put the accumulated knowledge of all time (inlcuding every fast breaking Tweet) in my hand. I can do just about anything from this little device, and technically it could replace my Ipod, my Kindle, my camera and probably my computer if I could stand the small keypad. It is even its own Wi-Fi hot spot. There is a booklet and a DVD to tell you how to make a phone call. I will never figure it all out and I am pretty sure that I don't need to.

The android also replaces Molly's phone that I have been using since she died. Molly used it to text her therapist just minutes before her death. Her phone stores pictures that Molly had taken. When Molly was alive, it was a daily connection between us - she really loved that thing! - and after she died it was a comfort for me to be able to use it. But it doesn't ring anymore and its way beyond time for it to be upgraded.

She would have loved the android. She'd probably already have it programmed to do all sorts of things; all her friends would have their own ringtones. She'd skype with it and download apps and probably lose it more than once if I know her.

I have kept all of her picutres and copied her texts. But in retiring her phone, I am adding to my understanding - my deep understanding - that she is not here anymore. And I miss her.