The phone rang and rang and I set up my salad (I got home late) and water and pen and paper and rang and rang and, “Oops,” I thought, “she’s probably on the other line.” Her phone is one of the last dinosaurs in the US that doesn’t send you to voicemail if the person is unavailable and while I was setting up my phone call space, I was only half paying attention. Anyways, I hung up the phone and dug into my dinner.

A couple of minutes later, Maga called me. “WHAT?!?” I thought. She rarely calls. It’s always me doing the initiating. (Look at her. 96 and playing hard to get. ;)) “Maga, hi!”

“Abby, dear? Is that you?” As if she hadn’t just dialed my number.

“Of course it is, Maga. You called me! Were you just on the other line? I tried you a moment ago.”

“I thought I’d give you a call tonight before your big trip. I dialed your number, but then your mother answered.”

“Oh, so that’s who you were talking to.” (And, oh, that’s why she was so cautious when I answered.)

“She had company over so she had to go and I tried dialing your number again.”

“Here I am.”

“You’re quite the traveler of the family.”

“I have been recently that’s for sure.”

We spoke of my upcoming trip and when I tried to prod her memory for details about what she liked when she’d visited the country, she said, “I don’t think Jobo and I were there. Or if we were, we didn’t spend much time there. I don’t really remember right now. My memory is fading.”

Her memory may not be what it used to be, but her legacy is alive and thriving in every bit of travel that I do. She traveled widely and my mom travels broadly and I’m just attempting to follow in their footsteps. It’s a big world. Someone’s got to see it all!

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