Category: feelings

“What did you do today?” Maga asked.

“Went to work, got a flu shot, got my roof replaced,” I said.

“Your roof was repaired?”

“Yes.”

“I hope it all goes away tomorrow.”

“I DON’T! I need a roof!”

“Oh, yes. Well, the travelers come home on Thursday.”

“They do! Do you think they’re having fun?”

“I don’t think so. I hope not.”

WHAT IS HAPPENING? IS TODAY OPPOSITE DAY? I decided to lay off a bit because my incredulous tone was throwing her for a loop. I let her tell me about the clouds outside, ask me about my day, and tell me about the commercials she was watching (side note: why is it always a commercial and never a main program?).

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Maga said. “It’s all moving so fast.”

“There does seem to be a lot happening on your tv right now.”

“I guess they know what they’re doing even if I don’t.”

She said it to the TV, but I could have easily said it to her…It’s a misty, spooky October night here and the atmosphere bled into the phone call. In fact, I’m not sure which part of this conversation was the most helpful/comforting for her: the part where I talked or the part where I listened or the part where her phone crapped out and she hung up on me?

“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.”

“Oh.”

“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?

“Have you heard from the adventurers?” Maga asked.

I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, so I did so with caution. “A little. [Sister E] received a picture of my mom today.”

“Oh?”

“It her standing next to a giraffe!”

“Really?”

“Yes. They have these cafes where the giraffes can roam nearby and stick their heads in and you can hang out with them.”

“They’re in the air. You’re on the ground,” Maga said.

“No. They’re all in the air.”

“Really?”

“It’s kind of like a tree house, I guess.”

“Do you have any clouds?”

The transition was abrupt, and yet, logical. “Today? Tonight? Or, like, in life?”

“Tonight,” she clarified.

“No. They all blew away.” (To London. Hi, Adriana!) “What about you? How’s your weather?”

“What’s that beeping noise?”

“My microwave. My errands after work took longer than I expected, so I’m just eating dinner now.”

“Oh, you’re cooking. Good job.”

“I wouldn’t call it cooking. I’m heating things up.”

Maga chuckled at that, which I considered a huge win because she was already in bed (at 6:45pm her time) and had sounded so sad at the beginning of the conversation. Neither giraffes or details of Aunt J’s return pepped her up. But if making light of my abilities in the kitchen tickles her fancy, perhaps I should try facetiming her to show her how truly magical it is (not) when I put my chef’s hat on!

“And how are you today?” I asked.

“I’m just back from dinner, so I’m well filled,” Maga said.

“Oh, nice! What did you have?”

“Umm, well…I can’t remember.”

“No worries. As long as you’re not still hungry.”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t spectacular.”

“You know that sounds an awful lot like my dinner.”

“How so?”

“Not spectacular, but filling enough.”

“Did you go out to eat?”

“Nope. Stayed in.”

“That certainly is easier.”

“And more affordable,” I said.

Maga laughed rather heartily at that. I was pleased with making her laugh, but confused at why being financially conscious was so humorous. Maybe if I was in on the joke, my finances would be in better shape?

“How is your weather,” Maga asked.

“Very fall-ish today.”

“It rained?”

“Nope. Not yet. But it is cooling down. I’m not ready for that quite yet.”

“I think of the cold coming and it’s not happy.”

“I agree!”

“There’s nothing we can do though. That’s just the nature of Mother Nature.”

The poetic nature of her comment lulled me into silence about climate change. I decided to let her comment stand as is rather than get into a discussion about it all, especially since her attention was equal parts focused on the TV, asking what I did today, and using a toothpick to make her tooth feel better.

She had the inside track on finances. I had the inside track on climate change. And yet, here we were talking superficially. Sometimes a phone call is for comfort instead of information. At 98 years old, she’s earned a few passes.

“I’m watching The Walking Dead,” Maga said.

“WHAT?!?” I screeched. Her voice had been soft and shaky before, but rang through clearly and confidently now. “WHY??”

“It’s Jaws. The movie with the sharks. J-A-W-S,” came the caregiver’s voice from the background.

“I’m watching The Walking Dead,” Maga said.

“It’s just a commercial,” said the caregiver.

“I don’t know what is happening here,” Maga said.

I was inclined to believe it actually was Jaws, but The Walking Dead had some sort advertisement along the bottom, which was steady enough for Maga to latch onto whereas the ocean and the sharks inside were not. I played along. “It is October after all. Tis the season for scary movies.”

“Is it scary?”

“It’s about zombies.”

“What is a zombie.” She didn’t so much ask as command me to tell her.

My brain scrambled as I thought of the best way to describe it. “They’re undead people.”

*Silence from Maga.* I tried another tactic. “You know vampires? They’re like that sort of creature, but they eat human brains instead of blood.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I want to be watching this.”

“I sure wouldn’t be. I hate scary movies and shows. You’re braver than me!”

“It came on rather suddenly. I’ve got it on whether I want it or not.”

She was referencing the TV station, but also, unintentionally, bravery itself. It often does come on suddenly and whether you want to be or not. Sometimes it’s in big moments like fighting (or running away from) zombies. Other times, it’s in the small moments like when you lay awake in the dark of the night unable to sleep.

Judging from the rest of our conversation, she was going to need a healthy dose of bravery and/or some sort of sleep aid. I’m betting on her ability to keep going despite the scary TV show, the upcoming scary time of night and the scary month (of October) (of her favorite child being away) (hi, Aunt J). Like our phone call, she started out shaky, but she always ends up firm, opinionated, and stubborn. All of which are traits that play well with bravery.

Yeah, she’s ready for whatever comes.