The first iPhone I bought was not for me, but for my mother whom I was living away from while in college — four and half hours from home. It was the first time we’d lived apart since immigrating to the United States together, which naturally meant there was a lot of calling to make sure I was doing okay in the cold, snowy hills of upstate New York.
My mom worked long hours as a restaurant chef so the only time she could call was after closing around 11PM, otherwise known as late-night cramming sessions, or prime collegiate party hour. There was a lot of guilty silencing her incoming calls. At the time my mom didn’t know how to type (and certainly not in English), so emails and texts weren’t exactly plan B. The more I prioritized life...
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