My Moto X silently flew through the air, my fumbling fingers trying to catch it as it
reached my backyard fish pond. I heard a soft "swunk" as it descended below the water's surface, the screen lit up with a notification from my Ring video doorbell. That was the last time I saw my phone fully alive, and three weeks later I still can't stop thinking about my old Moto.
It's not that I lost data. I backed everything up. I'm mourning the hardware for what it represents: our history together. I didn't just dunk my phone. I dunked a piece of my heart.
The phone went to England with me via ship for my honeymoon and saw dolphins swimming in the cold Atlantic water. It weathered the misty rains of the UK, stood with me in glorious green fields and captured grand manors with its lens. It navigated me across the twisting stone walls of the Peak District and helped me pronounce "Derbyshire" right. This was my first journey abroad with a smartphone and I reveled in how it replaced the stack of maps, guide books and handwritten notes I'd carried along on previous trips. https://www.cnet.com/news/moto-x-smartphone-dropped-water-rice/
