“How was your day today,” Maga asked.
“It was good. I just got back from dinner with my friend.”
“Do you eat out often?”
“Not as much as I used to. I’m trying to save money.”
“Oh, yes. That’s a good thing.”
“The food that comes out of my kitchen isn’t as good though…”
“That’s life,” Maga said. “Take it as it comes.”
There’s some tough love for you on this Tuesday night. And by you, I mean me.
“Is it dark there?” Maga asked.
“Very,” I said. “It’s 9 o’clock.”
“Oh, well, yes, I guess it would be then. And where are you again?”
“Massachusetts.”
“Oh, yes. For three years I was there.”
“You were only at Wellesley for three years?”
“Wasn’t I?”
“College is usually four years.”
“’38 to ’42. How long is that?”
“Four years.”
“I thought it was only three years. Well, whatever it was, I endured it.”
I very nearly choked on my surprise. “You didn’t like it?”
“I don’t like how it’s getting dark so early now.”
“Me either. I also don’t like how rainy it was today.”
“It’s the time of year for rain,” Maga said.
“You’re right, but sometimes the rain helps you appreciate the sun even more.”
“Right you are.”
“Right YOU are,” I corrected.
“I guess we’re both right,” Maga said, allowing us to liberally continue congratulating ourselves on making it through another Tuesday, another gloomy (literally for me, figuratively for Maga) day, for being right about the season, and for carrying on a conversation despite some of the unexpected twists involved.
Abigail Mumford 