It showed a "Hi, Gram" text message.
"Where does she live?" I asked.
Upstate, she said. She was beaming.
"It makes you feel good," she said, turning her attention to the drivers barely in control of their vehicles and their impulses.
We oldsters often talk about the new breed who start flicking their thumbs in social situations, when families used to sit around and talk.
But the phones have their moments, particularly at holidays.
One of our grand-daughters now lives a mile away; she texts us all the time, sometimes with her latest photograph.
Anjali often sees things nobody else sees -- utility wires, somehow blue, outside her house, on a day of slush.