“Did you have a ball game tonight?” Maga asked.
“Nope. A haircut. Ball game is tomorrow night, though I can’t make that because I’ll be traveling for work.”
“A haircut. Well, that’ll make you feel good.”
“I do feel fresh and bouncy, actually.”
“When’s your next ball game?”
“Tomorrow. But I won’t be there.”
“Why not?”
“Work trip to a printing plant. Where all the equipment is. Where they make the books.”
“Oh, how interesting. I went on some trips like that.”
“To manufacturing plants?”
“Yes.”
“What did they make there?”
“They printed things.”
“You went to some printing plants?! How cool. Why were you there?”
“I didn’t go to very many. But more than one. I think. I can’t remember. It’s been a long time.”
Maga pondered her memories and I pondered her statement both of us wondering who we could verify this information with. She turned to a safer topic before I could grill her some more.
“How’s the weather there?” she said.
“Summery. Sunny. Hot. Humid. Finally.”
“Here too. It got up to the 90s today.”
“That’s quite warm. It was lovely here. 80s.”
“Did you have a ball game tonight?”
“Nope. Just a haircut.”
We boxed a few more rounds about the weather and my schedule (“You sure are busy”) while hiccups punctuated her comments.
“I try to be.”
“It’s hard from this distance to keep your schedule straight.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“I guess I don’t. I just need to know when it’s Tuesday because that’s our day. That’s always been our day.”
That was a comment neither one of us needed outside verification on because our hearts beat with the truth of it and the phone line buzzed with our connection.
Abigail Mumford 