It’d been a wash out of an evening. First, softball was canceled. Second, the bus (5 minutes away) disappeared from the app that was tracking it, and, from life. 20 rainy minutes later, the next one arrived. Third, Maga was out to dinner when I called and knowing her dinner companion (Uncle T), I feared they’d be chatting longer than the time difference between there and here allowed me to stay awake.
In the meantime, first, I texted with my 12yo nephew on his brand new phone. His dream of having-his-own-phone came true while my dream of having-someone-whose-name-is-alphabetically-above-mine-so-other-people-will-accidentally-dial-him-instead-of-me came true. I’ve been waiting 12 years for this!! Second, I queried my gal A with all my dumb app/internet questions in the hopes of distracting her (and myself) from this gloomy day. Third, I ogled pictures of Sister E with multiple authors. Fame by association. The sun was starting to shine.
I decided to try Maga one more time because I’m 36, not 96, and it’s not really that late at night.
She greeted me with hiccups and indigestion, but they were a sign of big, full dinner around a table with big, full men. “And what have you been up to lately?” she asked.
“Doing lots of interior decorating research.”
“Oh, that is fun.”
“I guess. It’s also expensive, which is why I’m just doing a lot of research right now. Plus, I’m finding it difficult to get paint supplies without a car.”
“It takes time and experience. You can’t expect to decorate overnight.”
“Yeah, but it sure would be nice.”
The familiar pause / lack of sound that meant someone was beeping in interrupted her response. The caregiver’s voice told her it was her other son calling.
“You are so popular, Maga. Dinner with Uncle T tonight. And now Uncle D is calling!”
“I can go days without phone calls and then they all come at once.”
“When it rains, it pours,” I said.
Abigail Mumford 