A Mom’s Computer Adventure
Donna Dellinger

Its one big glassy eye stared at me. Who would win this contest? Suddenly, it blinked off. Victory. But when I bumped the keyboard, its deceptive face reappeared. I would not be fooled by its cloud-dotted blue sky and rolling hill of green grass.
I knew otherwise. It was just a false front of pastoral peace. Earlier it had spitefully stolen all my morning’s work – a week of menus complete with recipes and a shopping list. And I had just spent the last two hours retyping it, begrudgingly. Knowing its past treacheries, I should have backed up my file. That is what I attempted to do next. From around my neck, I removed the little drive my son had lovingly draped over my head before he disappeared into his room to his own time-consuming beast. Although, he had tamed his.
My son was whom I hailed. “Ryan, can you help me with the computer?”
“Can’t, Mom. I’m in a dungeon.”
Yes, I knew the feeling. I was trapped by my own illiteracy of the tech age. Where do I even plug this in? Which side is up? No, I can do this, I thought. It wasn’t as if I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Simple eye hand coordination was the only requirement for step one.
It slid into the last place I tried. I smiled. But my delight immediately disappeared when nothing happened. “Now what?” I yelled to my knight-in-shining-armor down the hall.
“I’m almost done,” Ryan replied. That meant another hour.
I could pull the mom rank and demand instant obedience, but I decided not to. “Can you just tell me what to do next? I stuck it in already.”
“Go to ‘My Computer’”
I swept the mouse over to the icon and double left clicked. The window popped up, but then I froze in panic. A wave of nausea passed through me. There before me on the screen was a list of… I didn’t know what. The little pictures under the labels were no help either.
“Which one is it?” I hollered again.
“What did you name it?”
Silently, I was reciting several names I would have liked to call it, but then I recognized my own name. Anne. How sweet – it was trying to reach out to me. But should I trust it? I double clicked on that one. It magically opened into another window with more meaningless options.
Before I could get flustered again, Ryan came up behind me. “Okay Mom. What are you trying to do?” Only a hint of condescension edged his tone. Without waiting for my answer, he leaned over my shoulder and took the mouse from me. “First do this.” He clicked something.
I moved over to give him more room.
“Then you do this,” he continued. He dragged something. “Then this.” He clicked something else. “Go down here.”
He was now sitting in my seat.
“Click this. Click this. Then here.”
He had lost me at the first click. I guessed I would forever be dependent on my personal computer nerd.
“Done,” he announced as he handed back my drive.
“Thanks,” I said, still in a daze. But he had already vanished like a vision. A surge of accomplishment rushed through me, and I could feel myself beaming. I wanted to admire my handiwork one more time. With practiced nonchalance, I opened my prized file. I waited and waited, the little hourglass turning, microscopic sands shifting.
The page sprung open…blank.