“Have you heard from the adventurers?” Maga asked.
I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, so I did so with caution. “A little. [Sister E] received a picture of my mom today.”
“Oh?”
“It her standing next to a giraffe!”
“Really?”
“Yes. They have these cafes where the giraffes can roam nearby and stick their heads in and you can hang out with them.”
“They’re in the air. You’re on the ground,” Maga said.
“No. They’re all in the air.”
“Really?”
“It’s kind of like a tree house, I guess.”
“Do you have any clouds?”
The transition was abrupt, and yet, logical. “Today? Tonight? Or, like, in life?”
“Tonight,” she clarified.
“No. They all blew away.” (To London. Hi, Adriana!) “What about you? How’s your weather?”
“What’s that beeping noise?”
“My microwave. My errands after work took longer than I expected, so I’m just eating dinner now.”
“Oh, you’re cooking. Good job.”
“I wouldn’t call it cooking. I’m heating things up.”
Maga chuckled at that, which I considered a huge win because she was already in bed (at 6:45pm her time) and had sounded so sad at the beginning of the conversation. Neither giraffes or details of Aunt J’s return pepped her up. But if making light of my abilities in the kitchen tickles her fancy, perhaps I should try facetiming her to show her how truly magical it is (not) when I put my chef’s hat on!
Abigail Mumford 