feelings

2.25.20

“Hello, Abby dear.” Maga’s speech was slow and very slurred. “I was dozing in the chair after dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to wake you. I’ll let you go.”

“No. No. I like talking to you.”

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

I let her set the pace and as she cleared the cobwebs from the post-dinner snooze, the conversation unraveled slowly. Words and thoughts were hard for her to grasp, and yet, I didn’t want to fill in her sentences because I didn’t always know what she meant and if I guessed wrong, she had to start the thought process over. It’s a lot for a 98 years and 11 month old lady.

These conversations are supposed to be comforting, not taxing.

“Things happen we didn’t anticipate” and “It will be a special time to celebrate” and “Hope for the best” and “It’ll work out fine and good” and “You’ll be comfortable.”

She kept uttering generic phrases to whatever I was (or was not) talking about. I think she’d start off by listening to me, but then the TV would catch her attention and she’d end the sentence differently than she started it.

A bit of a travelogue if you will.

“I remember when we started talking on the telephone.”

I perked up. “Yeah?”

“All those years ago.”

Generic and yet accurate. It was the most I’d be able to get out of her brain tonight, so I chalked that one up as a win.

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