The conversation started out as it usually does. Maga was munching on her dinner and I, with my virtual book club plans canceled last minute, had nothing but time on my hands, so I sat silently between each bite or made random comments about the weather, my job, my office, how I wished I could see her, how far about we lived, how she didn’t need sleeping pills because she had plenty of time before bed to get tired and so on and so forth.

It was all business as usual until Maga asked me a question. “When did we start this Tuesday business?”

I perked up at this display of her memory of our phone calls. “It was around the time Jobo died. Maybe a few months after that.”

Neither of us could remember when that was, but the ever trusty Caregiver M informed us it was, “May. About 13 years ago.” She would know, as that’s the same time she started working with Maga.

And then somehow that conversation meandered over to travel.

“Is there anywhere you didn’t get to go to that you wished you had?” I asked.

“Oh yes. I didn’t get to Europe much.”

“Maga! Yes, you did.”

“Well, let’s see. I went to England, France, Italy…”

“See! You’ve been all over Europe. Oh, and Germany,” I supplied.

“Yes,” Caregiver M agreed. “I remember you told me about going to Berlin.”

“And Switzerland,” I said.

“Oh yes. I did go there. How did you know that?”

“You were there with my mom and Aunt J and that’s when Neal Armstrong walked on the moon!”

“That’s right!”

“I’ll never forget that story!”

“He certainly was courageous to do that,” Maga said.

“What do you think it was like to walk on the moon?”

“Well, once you get there, there’s not much to see or do.”

“Kind of like here. In pandemic times.”

Maga chuckled. “How long does it take to get to the moon?”

“I have no idea. Let me look it up.”

“You can do that?”

“I can and I am. It takes 3 days.”

“If only I had some sleeping pills…”

“Well, if you do wake up, just think of the moon.”

“That’s not a bad idea. You’re pretty bright.”

“Thanks! Or, you could try reading. That’s what I do when I wake up in the middle of the night.”

“Do you wake up in the middle of the night?”


“What are you reading?”

“A book called A Woman is No Man.”

“Well that’s for sure.”

We may not be able to see each other in person, but this was a proper Tuesday night hangout session with a conversation that lingered for a total of 70 minutes, through the changing of the guard, around the local weather patterns, and out to the moon and back.

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