“It snowed last night,” Maga said.
“IT DID?!” I said.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“How would I?”
“Where are you?”
“Massachusetts.”
“Oh,” Maga said. She lost her words and then her train of thought. She lapsed into talking about what was on the TV because it didn’t involve the past. Just present. I interjected where I could, but mostly, I just listened.
“It’s getting dark so early,” Maga said.
“That’s true. It’s definitely dark here.”
“Where are you?”
“Massachusetts.”
“I’m so lonely. I wish you would come visit.”
“Oh, Maga. I wish I could too. It’s almost a five hour flight, though. It’s just not as close as I’d like.”
“We’re both at different…” she searched for a word, “…angles.”
It didn’t make sense and it was 100% true. I wished I could rearrange a few things so the angles of our states and edges of our couches were closer.
Abigail Mumford 