I hadn't spoken to my mom in a very long time. It was long overdue. It's been years, and yet she seemed really well-informed about my life. She knew about the kids graduating from elementary school, the celebratory pizza dinner we had after graduation, my changing jobs, and having to switch health plans right when we were expecting our third child.
She reminded me of a sushi recipe I had experimented with, said it looked terrific, and even asked me what sort of fish I had used. She recommended a white fish for next time. She is always picky about her fish. Anything with a fishy taste is a no-go.
We talked a little about my feelings, and she suggested I not say so much about myself on public networks. She warned me about id theft and other crimes. She told me the story about one of my friends growing up who experienced a home invasion because he posted on Facebook about going on vacation, and the thieves showed up thinking the house would be empty. She giggled in a way that didn't seem natural to me and joked that if you are going to write about going on vacation, you should also post when your plans get canceled. At that moment, she seemed a little sinister. Almost cruel. Like a warning.
They came so close. The new algorithms are much more sophisticated than when she died so many years ago.