“Before I forget to tell you, I got your lovely postcard from Chicago,” Maga said.
“Oh good. I was thinking it should have arrived by now.”
“Who did you travel with?”
“It was a mini high school reunion.”
“You didn’t go to high school in Chicago.”
“You’re right. All of the ladies I was with I met while in high school, though, which is why it was like a mini reunion.”
“I think so.”
“It’s fun to collect postcards from all over the world. I don’t even throw them away!” Pride slathered her words, but I couldn’t help but cringe as I thought about how her extensive postcard collection is one of the smallest piles remaining in her house. So. Many. Collections. She barreled through my train of thought, “Your Aunt C and Uncle N are going [abroad] soon, right?”
“I prefer to call them Mom and Dad, but yes, they have a big trip coming up to celebrate Mom’s birthday.”
Maga laughed. “I sure am foozeldee tonight. Of course, you call them Mom and Dad.”
Knowing how her brain works, I suspected she had some sort of earlier adventure. “What sort of trouble did you get yourself into today?”
“Oh my. I’m not sure I’d classify it like that. I had lunch with some friends at Cherry Hills. It was an absolutely glorious day. The mountains were out. The blue sky. New landscaping on the grounds. We sat on the edge of the patio so we could really look out at the mountains and the beauty.”
“That sounds spectacular. Who were your dining companions?”
“Well, M of course because she drove me. And Bubbles. And someone else who, my goodness, I cannot think of the name.”
“Did you say Bubbles?!?”
“Yes. It’s kind of a nickname. Gosh. I can’t think of her first name right now either. What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It was a long day. And by the way I love her nickname!”
Maga may have been mixing up names and relationships tonight, but with a name like Bubbles, there’s no need for any other moniker.
In the absence of quality time together, we hung up thrilled with the company the other was keeping in the meantime.