Some days go better than others. Some nights go exactly according to plan.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“It’s close to bedtime here,” Maga says rather sternly. “But even closer there. What time is it there?”
“Close to 11. Yes, it is rather late here,” I say thinking of the friends I left chatting on the sidewalk so I could get home in time for this phone call.
Some days end up with all items checked off your to do list. Some nights go on forever and all you can do is hang on.
“Did you go to your bar?” Maga asks.
“We did, though that wasn’t the original plan. We were supposed to have a softball game tonight, but the weather didn’t cooperate.”
“Oh, a rain out. So you went to the bar instead.”
“You got it.”
Sometimes your grandmother picks up what you’re putting down. And sometimes she puts you on hold while she discusses her nighttime pill plan with the caregiver.
“So I’ll just buzz you then,” Maga says to the nurse.
“At 2am?” I clarify.
“When you’re my age, sleeping is hard.”
“So you set an alarm for 2am?”
“No. I just wake up and then I buzz for them.”
“Oh. Hmm. Well, when you add up all the sleep you’ve gotten over the years, maybe you’ve already hit your quota. It’s okay not to sleep through the night.”
Sometimes your grandmother doesn’t want to hear anything other than her own opinion.
Abigail Mumford 