October 10, 2015 –It was kind of like a dream, but I was awake.

In my mind, I hear a phone ringing. In my mind, I answer it.

The voice on the other end is instantly recognizable. Young, earnest and full of enthusiasm.

“Hi, Gaga.”

It’s Elliott, my grandson. But not the two-year-old he is today but an older version. Maybe ten years old.

“Gaga, if I start walking now from my house and you start walking now from your house we will meet at the frozen yogurt store at exactly the same time. Will you meet me there?”

Of course I will. Ready, set, go. We arrive at exactly the same time, as he has calculated. We eat our yogurt outside on the little tables. We play  “one, two, three four. I declare a thumb war.”  He tells me about his day. I tell him a few stories about when he was a two-year-old. He loves those stories.

We hug goodbye. I remind him to be careful walking home. He says, “I know, Gaga. “

“I love you, Elliott.”

“I love you, Gaga.”

“Let’s do this again,” we say in unison. And we do.