“That must have been a very special time in Greece,” Maga said.

“Beyond. Special. Amazing. So so fun.”

“How’s your jet lag?”

“Not good, actually. I’m having a terrible time getting back to a normal schedule.”

“You’ve been home a week already?”

“Not quite. Not yet.”

“Oh, well these things take time. At least a week. At least they did in my experience.”

“What tricks did you use to get over it?”

“Oh, well, probably sleeping pills which would help me finish out the night.”

“There’s an idea.”

“Just know that good, normal times are ahead of you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

“What time is it there?” Maga asked, “8pm?”

“No, 11pm.”

“What?!? Where are you?”

“East Coast.”

“Oh that’s right, of course. Oh, my goodness you should get to bed.”

“I’m already in it.”

“You are?! Now there’s a smart girl.”

With a brain functioning not even remotely on full capacity, I’ll take the compliment and wrap myself up in sweet dreams, too, while I’m at it.



There was a wedding and a dance floor that was packed from beginning to end. There were family members, both immediate, extended, and chosen. There were hot temperatures. There was very little shade. There were sunsets galore. Basically, there was a trip and it was, as the kids say, epic.

“I thought about you all then and how and what,” Maga said as I described some of the bigger events that took place over the past two plus weeks and then again over the past 24 hours of travel. “What a crazy, mixed up day.”

I’m not sure if it was the jet lag or the familiar voice, but everything she said made sense and even though I haven’t yet unpacked, I felt like I’d arrived home.



Yesterday’s temperatures scorched every last one of my brain cells and, as such, I was unable to properly manage my time between activities and missed my nightly call with Maga.

Fortunately, today’s a holiday and I made better use of my time outside the office. We chatted about fireworks and upcoming trips and family and sports. Her voice was slightly hoarse, but instead of a cold, she complained about her back.

“I guess that’s just one of the reasons why I can’t go with you,” she said.

“But the good news is that there will be pictures and postcards galore.”

“Oh, good. I’ll look forward to that.”

As we discussed when our next phone call would take place (since I’ll be out of touch during our regularly scheduled time), she said, “If you get a chance to say goodbye, please do, but if you don’t, that’s okay too. I love you.”

I’ll admit this display of generosity caught me by surprise because more often than not, it’s a guilt trip she lays down, and guilt is a heavy load to bear. And with the continued scorching temperatures here, it might have been too much. But this little act of kindness was like a breath of fresh, cool air.

“I love you too, Maga,” I said. “I’ll talk to you on Monday.” Not out of guilt or habit, but because I want to.