Different Worlds Converging on One Screen

By: Angela Bermudez

From the moment of my conception, technology and the computer played a large role in

bringing me close to those I love. As a tiny fetus wrestling in my mother’s womb, I came alive

to my parents on the screen of the sonogram machine, a barely recognizable black and white

blob with the beginnings of hands and feet. With the image of my fetus floating in my mother’s

uterus lighting up the screen, a connection was formed, one my underdeveloped mind could not

even fathom. Almost 19 years later and miles from home, this connection remains in large part

due to the screen, which first introduced me to this world and to the ones I loved. The realization

of this, though, did not come until the summer I was 9 years old when I decided to venture into

the modern world of instant communication over the computer.

The summer was fast approaching, and despite its promise of freedom and relaxation,

sadness lingered: my two best friends, identical tall dark haired, green- eyed Colombian twins

who only a trained eye could distinguish from one another, would be spending their entire

summer in the midst of their mountain- lined hometown of Bogota. Three months without

swinging on the swings, dancing in our rooms, and running through the dirt; how would I survive

without my best friends, my unofficial sisters? As my luck would have it, my mother’s work

lent her a brand-new laptop. My eyes glimmered behind my purple-framed glasses with

excitement as I ran my fingers through the small keyboard and admired the black, shiny exterior

of this small device. Set out in my wooden kitchen table, the light entering the sliding glass

window, I rummaged through the computer, discovering its every trick, marveling at the new

technologies. Having only discovered electronic communication earlier that year, sitting in front

of the black, bulky computers in my expansive and decorated elementary school library, I
decided it would be the opportune moment to officially become a part of the phenomenon that

had only just begun to sweep the world of communication. My father sat beside me, with his

balding head hunched forward, eyes fixated in determination as he installed the software I would

need to stay in communication with my best friends. I was filled with excitement as I typed that

first e-mail about my new game and my complete boredom without them; in my nine-year-old

eyes I had entered the adult world, communicating with my “best friends forever” who were

residing in a country I barely knew about. My eagerness to stay in contact with those I loved

was intuitively embedded in me and I could not resist the opportunity to subscribe to instant

messaging and e-mail. At that time, those convenient ways of communicating seemed like a

novelty; little did I know at that moment that it was the beginning of a vital way of staying in

contact with my loved ones.

Fast forward ten years later, and my loved ones appear to me on a computer screen not

just through written words, but live, in person, their familiar voices and images coming alive on

my screen. With miles of separation between my loved ones and I the computer becomes a

lifeline, particularly as I enter the university and commence a new chapter in my life.

Today, in the sweltering heat of my dorm room, I sit hunched in front of the computer,

contemplating the black screen in front of me, brown eyes tentatively waiting. Suddenly they

appear before me: my parents sitting on a black, twirling office chair, the source of immense

entertainment for me as a child, in the dimly lit alcove of the living room the table where I first

explored the technological portal to my loved ones, my father grinning in his spectacles and my

mother’s auburn eyes lighting up in amazement. As my mom releases several gasps of “This is

incredible,” “I’ve missed you so much baby,” in her sweet melodic voice, my father chimes in

to ask me how my classes are going, to remind me to study, and occasionally correct my Spanish
in that persistent, but loving tone I have grown accustomed to. Though vast miles of cornfields,

farmlands, and cities separate us, at that very instant my parents are in my dorm room. They

scan across my cluttered bookcases, housing the bulky textbooks, various decorations, and

within a royal purple frame a picture of me, as a blonde infant, being held by my demure, white

haired grandmother clad in an emerald pant suite surrounded by my then fresh faced aunts in

their 90’s inspired attire. Across the nation, the computer screen has brought us together,

brought back the familiar sounds, faces, and conversations of my home.

The conversation is short; our lives have all become so busy and within minutes my

parents have faded from the computer screen, drifting back to the humidity and exuberant

Hispanic culture of my palm tree adorned and beach lined hometown Miami. Their words,

though cut short, leave me at ease, ready to face the challenges of my new life with confidence

and embrace the opportunities.

Almost on a daily basis, I tune into my computer to chat with friends and family or even

talk to them in person through video chat as if they were right in front of me. As I sit here today

having just chatted with my parents and with my best friends, still identical and still tall, no

longer the naïve 4th grader discovering the World Wide Web but still eager to communicate with

those I love, I realize that my loved ones are my rock, the foundation of who I am as a person.

From the first moments of my life in my mother’s womb to updates from a distance in college, it

is the screen and technology that has fortified the bonds with those I love and will continue to do

so as technology becomes even more advanced, and for that I am grateful.