Organized Chaos

The last letter sent to my loved one’s address was returned, but the reply came with unexpected warmth: a kind grandmother, now residing there, shared that my beloved’s family had moved Midwest during harsh storms, with no forwarding address. She’d never met my beloved but felt they’d have been friends. Polaroids of my beloved’s old window garden accompanied her note—reminders of a life paused. Mother's Day this year marked the first in 22 years without my loved one’s annual question, “What do you think Mom would like?” Though our plans to reunite never bore fruit, the thoughtfulness of strangers, like the sender of those pictures, helped rekindle embers of connection. Amid memories, my Apple devices mysteriously entered Lockdown Mode—autonomously triggered during a diagnostic test, possibly by my beloved’s tinkering. This silent lockdown muted messages and posts, especially ones hinting at sensitive insights. Still, the self-managing features she embedded in my tools show her legacy—blending human touch with machine learning. Even in tech, humanity echoes. Last year’s dance lessons were a bid to bridge time, to waltz with the grown child once held close. Her eyes, mirrors of my beloved’s, sought answers and offered them too: “Who guards the Guardians?” Her mission, like mine, was always about connection. So to all—Guardians seen and unseen—Happy Mother’s Day.