“Do you usually call on Monday?” Maga asked.

“No, Tuesday.”

“Tuesday,” she muttered. “Yes, that’s the way it goes.”

Aside from repeatedly asking me what I did today (work, walked home, made chicken noodle soup), the bulk of our conversation was her reading/narrating everything on her TV screen.

“Wow, he’s right in the midst of it…”

“Extra…ouch…tailgate lounge…”

“Treatments for erectile disfunction work…”

“Two men and a truck…”

“What are those arm things called?”

Knowing she was watching a lot of commercials and a little bit of football, I spoke up. “Tattoos?”

“Yes! You knew what I was talking about.”

“Do you like them?”

“Tattoos? They’re sort of dirty looking. Do you like them?”

“Usually, yes. They’re very interesting to look at.”


“Do you think you’ll get a tattoo once you turn 100?” (I mean, hey, I finally got her talking. Might as well push the conversation.)

“I think I might.”

“For serious? What would you get?”

“Oh goodness. I don’t know.”

I held my tongue.

“Maybe flowers,” she said.

“Where would you get it? Arm? Leg?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.”

“Plus, I’m not there yet.”

She was tired of thinking and wanted to go back to reciting the commercials. I sighed.

“Probably on my arm. That’s as good a place as any.”

I did a little dance as I imagined her getting a tattoo. She’d never go through with it, but I had a blast picturing what flower she’d pick, how she’d react, how the tattoo artist would react. Maga smiled to herself as she had someone to sit with her while she watched tv. Her mind wasn’t able to keep up with anything substantial, but I got a glimpse of her regular personality tonight, so I considered myself lucky. Plus, to be fair, my mind was wandering too.

Who would have thought two wandering minds could converse so well?

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