1708: The last letter, sent to the last known address, was returned but with an unexpected reply. The current tenant, a kind elderly woman now caring for her grandchild, expressed condolences and mentioned the previous family had moved. She included polaroids of a garden by Marina's window, used in the house sale. She never met my child but wished she had, believing they would have gotten along. The house was left furnished, and while there was no forwarding address, she mentioned the family moved to the Midwest during a time of horrendous storms. Despite my fears, I received no notification from the Red Cross. I doubted I was still listed as an emergency contact, as they only had my Key West address. Marina had asked to be informed when I settled or bought a house, a task I had put on the back burner and forgotten until now. I didn’t anticipate getting sick last year or my memories fading, but like decaying orbits, little nudges sometimes get you back on track. Thanks to the stranger who sent the polaroids and kind regards. This Mother's Day marks the first in 22 years without Marina, without the thoughtful question, “What do you think Mom would like?” She had always wanted to meet my family, a plan we had but never fulfilled. Like a fallen star learning to live on Earth, I find solace in small embers. Walking around Costco, I still take pictures of items for a university kid’s room. This post isn't sad but dedicated to those who think of others perpetually and unconditionally, true Guardians of the Galaxy.
0447: In a curious twist of fate, my phone altered the settings of all my Apple devices without my knowledge. I struggled to understand why messages eluded me until I discovered an unfamiliar setting: Lockdown Mode. This feature, seemingly designed for those fearing cyber attacks, had engaged itself without my consent. The Apple technicians who serviced my device had failed to mention it, but discussions with colleagues illuminated the situation. Apple's proprietary code revealed that my phone had autonomously activated Lockdown Mode during a diagnostic test last year, restricting many features. My previous experiments with Apple’s automation tool, Shortcuts, didn’t account for this change, and my meticulous notes showed no record of enabling it. I suspect my child, who had access to the phone, might have triggered it. My apologies if posts disappear; anything revealing intelligence flaws seems to be swiftly removed or rewritten. This is a test of a feature my child devised for my editors—a self-managing page toggleable at will. In our era of AI and machine learning, such innovations are the future. While concerns about control persist, rest assured that human input remains essential. Humanity and technology, once considered separate, are now intertwined, destined to collaborate. Our future lies in this symbiotic relationship, where sentience bridges the gap between man and machine.
0049: I recall taking dancing lessons last year, wanting to transcend the iconic moves my father taught me—the two-step and finger guns—for a grand ball with my daughter. Though I still saw her as my kid, I knew she had grown, and around this time, she would ask what to gift her mother. Her light eyes, hazel yet gray in certain lights, always looked to me for thoughtful, meaningful gifts. These dreams, these memories, I verified each morning to ensure they weren’t mere fiction. For 22 years, I wanted to validate this life, grateful she confided in those who contacted me. I sensed others who knew Marina were part of this assignment too. My daughter often asked, during my weeks or months away on duty, "Who looks after me?" and later, "Who guards the Guardians?" In her pursuit, she found the answer. Despite the public domain’s restrictions, I’ve shared much already. On this note, I wish you all a Happy Mother's Day. Yes, even the gentlemen, for if we only celebrate once a year, we miss the daily sacrifices. Cherish them always, for they are Guardians, shaping our lives profoundly.
