Where In The World?

Today was my niece's birthday. Not exactly, but it was her birthday party. Not exactly that either, but it was the only day my family could get together to celebrate it.

She's a sweetheart and I was quite disappointed her parents forbid me from getting her an air rifle. Instead we gave her a keyboard, one with an extremely generous volume control. Air rifle, keyboard. Either way they shouldn't have much trouble with chipmunks in the backyard.

After I reminded my niece the only way to get a hamster is to ask for one at least one thousand times a day, conversation turned to my mother's trip. None of us have heard from her since she left. Between the postal efficiencies to be found in developing nations and Grandma's Luddite approach to technology, that's not surprising. Still, a postcard once in a while wouldn't kill her.

"Where is she now?" asked my youngest son.

"A Turkish prison," I said.

"Grandma's in prison?" asked my niece.

"Probably. Did you ever hear the story about how she shot me?" I replied.

"No," she said.

"Ask your mother someday," I said. "It's too traumatic for me to discuss."

"Where is she really?" asked my middle son.

"I don't know. Petra, Jordan I think."

"Where's that?"

"Far away. Where I wish I was."

"Uncle Snag's weird," said my niece.

"Blueberry pie," I said, pinching my lips together.

"You're weird, Uncle Snag," she repeated.

She's a smart girl.