I’m writing to you from Mexico. I’m not there anymore, by the time you read this at least. But I am (or was) there. And as usual, I was observing people. That’s what I do. I observe.

As I sat drinking my morning coffee, I was overlooking a dozen beach cabanas filled with a dozen or so couples. All of them on their cellphones.

My initial judgment—"Gosh, you’re in this beautiful place and you’re buried in your phone.” I tut-tutted in my head and went about finishing my drink.

I looked over at my husband. He was reading me the weather from his phone. “Well, this is different from the couples on the beach. We have to figure out what the weather is… our scrolling has purpose.”

Later, we walked down a dusty street to grab something to drink. We went into one of those beachside spots that just screams mindful living—you know the spots—juices, smoothies, books placed on a shelf, palm trees, sand beneath your feet as you dine. But, I looked around and everyone was on their phones. I wasn’t on mine. I’d like you to believe it’s because I have great self-restraint but that would be a lie. My phone died on the walk.

I spotted an older couple in the corner. “They don’t have their phones out,” I thought, “they know how to be present with each other.” Then I turned back around and my husband had pulled his phone onto the tabletop and was........

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