8.16.16

An only child who grew up living with just her mother, it’s not hard to see why Maga treasures her large family.

“Why didn’t Nana ever get re-married?” I ask.

“She knew a few men, dated a little, but nothing ever took. I wished she had gotten married again because I think she was lonely for a lot of her life.”

Is Maga reminiscing or am I looking in the mirror?

“She moved out to Colorado later in life. She lived in a care center about halfway between our house and downtown. I think she enjoyed those four years very much. We took her out to dinner and on trips and up to Dillon. Plus, she kept busy over there and had many friends.”

“How is her center different than yours?”

“I lived so long in my own house and could come and go as I wanted. Here, I have to wait for someone to come get me. I was younger at my house. Plus I always had someone around. Now I’m alone from 6pm until bedtime. It’s terribly lonely.”

She makes valid points, though she misses the angle I’m aiming for.

“How’s your foot?” Maga asks, switching the topic with a dexterity born from her days of hosting parties.

“It’s getting much better, thanks.”

“Do you have any upcoming travel?”

“I’m going to Nashville in a couple of weeks.”

“I don’t think my footsteps have ever crossed that state.”

It’s one of the few places in the world she hasn’t been, and after learning that my loneliness is genetic, an erratic thrill zips through me. Maybe genetics are more flexible than I thought and maybe just maybe me and my bionic toe will leave a unique set of footprints.