“I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight,” Maga said.
“Why’s that?”
“I just don’t think so.”
“What do you do when you wake up at night?”
“Count some sheep.”
“You could try counting your blessings.”
“Oh, yes, I could.”
“That will keep you warm and cozy.”
“That’s what I want.”
“And it makes the dark less so.”
“That sounds pleasant.”
“Why do you think you won’t sleep tonight?”
“Things have been strange lately.”
She may not always be able to remember it, but her two daughters are halfway across the world on an epic adventure and the lack of communication with them (particularly Aunt J) is hitting Maga hard.
“Isn’t today Wednesday?” Maga asked.
“It is.”
“Why are you calling?”
“Am I not allowed to?”
“No, no. You can. But why.”
“I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”
“Oh, yes. sure. They’re making a movie about Judy Garland.”
“Yes, they are. Did you like her?”
“Not really. I never paid much attention to her.”
“Why not??”
“I didn’t always like singing people so well. I mean I like them fine enough but it wasn’t that important to me.”
“Who was?”
“Those good actors.”
“Like, oh, Audrey Hepburn?”
“Sure. Yes. She was good. I just don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”
“I think you’ll be okay.”
“I don’t. What am I going to do if I don’t sleep tonight? I’m just so confused.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m all mixed up.”
“It happens,” I said truly, honestly, accurately. “You know what? I thought today was Thursday. All day long.”
“Today’s Wednesday!” Maga cried. “What a big mistake.”
“You see. It happens all the time.”
“But what am I going to do if I don’t sleep? I just don’t think I will.”
Caught in a circle much like one’s thoughts in the dark corners of evening, I did my best to soothe, to redirect, to tackle the questions head on. We talked for over 45 minutes until it seemed like a granddaughter wasn’t enough and I reached out to my Uncle D. Perhaps his deeper tones would be better at banishing the things that go bump in the night.
Abigail Mumford 