Our call was later than normal and filled with more medical jargon than usual, but the caring and concern for our surrounding family members was the same.

Her hearing and her mind were sharp tonight which helped dispel some of the recent disappointing news as I had answers to all of her questions.

“I’d completely forgotten that had happened 15 years ago,” Maga said in an effort to frame it in a way she understood, in a way that revolved around her own daily life.

I allowed this line of thought because I figured it’d help everyone out if she better understood why her most frequent out of town visitor had to cancel a trip out west.

And it did seem to work. She sounded calmer, more clear, and steadier as we wrapped up the conversation.

“I wish you health and happiness,” she said in lieu of goodbye. I wished her (and everyone in my family) the same.



“I got your postcard from Chicago,” Maga said.

“And one from Nantucket. And I sent one from Newport this past weekend.”

“My goodness you’re busy. What were you there for?”

“Two of my friends got married.”

“Oh, how lovely. Did you know the bride or groom?”

“It was two brides and I know them both. They live up here.”


“Maga? You still there?”

“Did you say two women were the participants?”

“I did.”


“Why I didn’t know that was possible?” Maga said.

“I don’t know. It is. Federally, for about two years. In Massachusetts, for longer than that. Maybe 5-6 years?”

“I am absolutely astounded.”

“In a good way?”

“Well, I guess it depends on the people.”

“How so?”

“If they’re good people and love each other…”

“They are. They do.”

“Do men marry other men too?”

“In fact they do.”

“You’ve just opened a whole new chapter for me.”

“Happy to have done so. I mean, come on, finding love is hard. I should know. If two people can find happiness and love together, what’s wrong with that?”

“I guess so. I just didn’t know this existed.”

“You read the newspaper every day. You’ve never seen an article about it?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Keep your eyes peeled. It’s very common. You’ll start seeing news about it everywhere.”

“You’ve opened my eyes tonight.”

I’m not sure if it was leftover from one of the most beautiful weddings I’ve been to or a new addition from the act of educating my 96 year old grandmother, but as I hung up, I was glowing.



“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.”

“How delightful!”

“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.



“Now how will you get to [your next destination]?” Maga asked. “By row boat or motor boat.”

“By row boat?” I burst out laughing. “Not exactly.”

“Oh, I thought you might go on a personal boat or something.”

“I wish, but no, we’re not rich. We’ll go by ferry with the rest of the people who need/want to go there.”

“Oh, okay then. Wow. That was a good shot. I’m watching the US Open. Tennis. Did you ever play?”

“Well, not like you did,” I had to speak up over the volume of the TV. “Or like my mom did. I didn’t play in school or in organized sports, but at Nyoda [summer camp], my last year there, I was a counselor and I taught tennis. It was a bit silly because I didn’t have many technical skills, but the girls just wanted to hit the tennis ball, so I happily let them do that.”

“Nyoda! I forgot you went there.”

“I did. From ages 7-15. My formative years.”

“You went much longer than I did.”

“But it’s still so amazing that we ended up at the same camp all those years apart.”

For someone who was born in NJ (Maga), but lived the majority of her life in CO to go to the same camp as her granddaughter, who lived her childhood years in MD, but went to a camp in NJ, but then moved to NJ due to her father’s job…and then stopped going to that camp because if she wanted to make something of the sports she did play, she needed to go to specific sports camps to improve her skills. Wow. What a crazy, overlapping world we live in and even though we’re related, the threads were far apart.

If only everyone took the time to listen and learn to each other’s stories, imagine all the overlapping threads to be discovered. Imagine all the commonalities between us. Even if we don’t have genes connecting us. Life does. Amen to that.