“Hi, who is it please?”
“Maga, it’s Abby.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Maga. It’s Abby,” I repeated a bit louder.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Abby!” I fairly shouted.
Muffled voices between Maga and her caregiver…Caregiver gets on the line, “I don’t think she can hear you.”
“Could you try putting it on speaker phone?” I asked.
“One minute. Let me see. Oh, yes.”
More muffled sounds as the phone went back to Maga.
“Hi, Maga. It’s Abby.”
“Oh, Abby dear. Hello.”
Her words were slurred more than usual, my heart rate increased.
“I was in bed,” she said.
“I’m sorry Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” My words slurred together in haste not to wake her up too much.
“It’s okay.”
“We had a late dinner and then I was on dish detail which is why I’m calling so late.”
“It is later than usual.”
“I’m so sorry. I can let you go.”
“Maybe.”
“I just wanted to call since it’s our Tuesday and to say Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Merry Christmas to you too. Where are you?”
“I’m at my parents’ house.”
“Oh, could I talk to your mother?”
“Oh, sure of course. Let me go over to her.”
“Where is she?”
Fortunately my mother is easier to track than Santa Claus so I knew she was in the next room over and I delivered my phone to her.
“Here she is, Maga.”
“Who is your mother?” Maga asked.
“[C] is my mom.”
“Oh, of course.”
I sat beside my mom as she talked to her mom. The holidays are all about the generations after all, even if we’re not all in the same geographic location.
Abigail Mumford 