The Ecb

I’m Face-Timing with my Grandmère, we touch-base once a week. I love that face, wrinkled, like wind-weathered driftwood, and she’s a wag. “Are you familiar with the ECB?” She asks. I wince at this odd turn in conversation, “Not REALLY,” I say, searching my mental index of useless facts and cross-matching those with her interests, “the European Central Bank?” I reply. “Oui.” she says. “Let’s see,” I begin in a bored voice, “Inflation – transitory or persistent?” I say, in my best TV news-reader voice. “No,” I chuckle, “Not really, I have REAL, boring-things I’m learning about.” “You’ll need to - one day,” she says, like a tarot reading oracle. “I can’t imagine why.” I said. “I’m writing a few sentences about you!” I interject, to both change the subject and see what she says. She’s the only one in the family who knows I write. “Oh,” she sighs, “Am I young, immoral and reckless?” “Yes, you ARE,” I assure her, “you’re the worst.” “Good," she confides, “I miss those days.” . Marriam Webster: a wag is a clever person prone to joking