“Maybe I should call you back?” Maga said.
“No,” I said, climbing out of the Lyft. “I’m on my cell phone. We can talk always.” The driver laughed as I waved goodbye and mouthed “thank you.”
“Oh, are you on that phone?”
“Yes,” I said, then explained about the wonders of the 21st century technology and also of 21st century bachelorette parties.
“Is your bachelorette affair in Salt Lake City?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Oh,” Maga said. “I knew it had an L in the name.”
And now I knew that my keen sense of geography came directly from my grandmother.
“Did you have bachelorette parties in your day?”
“Oh, no. I got married quite a long time ago, you know.”
“Did you have a registry back then?”
“Where you picked out things you liked and wanted? Yes. I had that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you first called. It’s such a nice day here, we went for a walk around the block.”
“I’m glad to hear about you getting out of the house.”
“I’m not just going to sit around a house forever. I’ve got to get out.”
And now I knew where my travel bug gene came from.
Abigail Mumford 