i’ve previously talked about my weekly phone calls with my mom’s mom, maga. they’re usually short and sweet and filled with the weather, updates about family, and discussions about sports.
our calls from the previous two weeks were quiet calls which mirrored the weeks we’d each had. when a third phone call threatened to be as news-less as the previous two, maga set out to have something to report. it was a day with nothing on the calendar other than living it best as her 91 year old self could, so her caregiver took her on a journey to meet a specific lady. this lady is another client of maga’s caregiver and she’s the grandmother of the rock star who wrangled me the passes to meet guster.
maga’s mind has always been younger than her physical self, but even so, it was hilarious to hear her declare the other woman as elderly, seeing as at 91, maga’s no spring chicken either. it reminded me of the way i feel much younger than my 31 years and it’s only when faced with people younger than me that i remember i’m not as young as my brain thinks i am. i’ve often described these young people as babies, which is essentially the same thing as maga describing one of her peers as elderly.
we’re 60 years and hundreds of miles apart, but we’re more similar than just in our genes.
at the end of that phone call, she apologized for not having more fun things to report. WHAT?! i said. you met someone new yesterday! you get out and about every day. you’re kicking butt and taking names. i’m the one who should apologize for not having more gossip, more stories, more interesting things to tell.
but that’s the funny thing about brains and expectations.
you perceive yourself in a particular manner (younger than you actually are) and with a weekly chat, you hope to experience something that’s big enough to make it a conversation. it doesn’t matter if you’re 91 or 31, you still want to entertain and enlighten an otherwise lonely soul.