A Video Call with Grandma

When Rosa’s family gave her a tablet for her seventy-fifth birthday, she thanked them politely and put it in a drawer. She had never used anything more complicated than a mobile phone, and the idea of pressing the wrong button made her nervous. Her grandson Lucas, who lived three hours away, decided to be patient.

Three weeks later, Rosa finally sent him a message: “I think I am ready.” On Sunday afternoon, they began a video call, but Lucas could see only a black rectangle. He asked Rosa to describe what she could see on the screen, and she mentioned a picture of her own face in the corner.

That detail was enough. “Grandma, look at the top edge of the tablet,” Lucas said. After some searching, she found a transparent sticker covering the camera. “The shop must have left it there,” she said, peeling it off with her fingernail. The picture appeared instantly, and Lucas laughed with relief.

Another problem followed: Rosa could see her grandson, but she could not hear him. Lucas explained where the volume buttons were, and Rosa pressed the wrong one twice before finding the right one. Neither of them minded. By then, the call had become the best part of their weekend.

Before saying goodbye, Rosa wrote the steps on a card in large letters and placed it next to the tablet. She also asked whether they could repeat the call every Sunday. Lucas said yes immediately. What had looked like a technical difficulty had become a new family habit.