There were phone calls answered and dropped and initiated and answered. Once we connected…names of newborns and ancient beings were discussed. Similarities abounded. Numbers of great-grandchildren were counted. I was anointed…”Oh gosh, you’re a better adder than I am.” I happily accepted that label. Home improvements were discussed. “I painted a few things but it wasn’t my favorite thing to do. What was? I dunno, but gosh, not painting.” Weather patterns were unraveled. “It’s almost summer. The rain will stop soon.”

My headphones kept cutting in and out. The volume of her TV drowned out our (stilted) conversation. I moved between outdoors and indoors. We were speaking different languages despite using the same words. Tradition kept us close even when technology conspired against us.

“I’m glad I was able to receive your call,” Maga said. No matter the shape, Tuesday nights configure themselves around us and despite the “hardships” that got us to this point, I agreed. We were together. That was enough.

*All quotes were by Maga, 98yo.

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