Generations



My Grandma, surrounded by 7 great-grandchildren*, **

You know those families where generation after generation lives in the same town? Or the same county? Or, at the very least, the same state?

Yeah. I’m not from one of those families. Growing up, I had no grandparents, no aunts and uncles, no cousins in the same state as me. And, truth be told, it was absolutely fine. I didn’t really feel “deprived”, though I certainly looked forward to visiting our extended family. The extended family I got to visit least often? My grandparents out in Arizona. Growing up in upstate New York and Connecticut made that quite a trek, indeed.
A bit over a year ago, I moved back to the town where I spent most of my “growing up” years (the years from 10 to 18). My parents still live here. My sister and her family are just a couple towns over.
And now?
My eighty-eight year old grandma is here too. The grandma whose name is echoed in my younger daughter’s. Just a few towns away. Easy to visit.
She can come to Sunday supper at my parents’ house (assuming someone picks her up!)…
She can spend holidays surrounded by family…
Or she can just sit in a comfy chair in her apartment with a smattering of great grandchildren at her feet.
While I may not have realized it growing up… that is, indeed, a finer thing in life.

*Why, yes, my son IS wearing a pink shirt. The entire Little League did so for Breast Cancer Awareness! (And, for the record, I’m not one of those to freak out about pink on a guy anyhow…)
**And, yes indeed, that is my son who looks like he was on the losing end of a fight. He fell running up our driveway and ended up needing “glue stitches” a mere week after his sister needed stitches in her face too… good times, good times.

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Generations


My Grandma, surrounded by 7 great-grandchildren*, **

You know those families where generation after generation lives in the same town? Or the same county? Or, at the very least, the same state?

Yeah. I’m not from one of those families. Growing up, I had no grandparents, no aunts and uncles, no cousins in the same state as me. And, truth be told, it was absolutely fine. I didn’t really feel “deprived”, though I certainly looked forward to visiting our extended family. The extended family I got to visit least often? My grandparents out in Arizona. Growing up in upstate New York and Connecticut made that quite a trek, indeed.
A bit over a year ago, I moved back to the town where I spent most of my “growing up” years (the years from 10 to 18). My parents still live here. My sister and her family are just a couple towns over.
And now?
My eighty-eight year old grandma is here too. The grandma whose name is echoed in my younger daughter’s. Just a few towns away. Easy to visit.
She can come to Sunday supper at my parents’ house (assuming someone picks her up!)…
She can spend holidays surrounded by family…
Or she can just sit in a comfy chair in her apartment with a smattering of great grandchildren at her feet.
While I may not have realized it growing up… that is, indeed, a finer thing in life.

*Why, yes, my son IS wearing a pink shirt. The entire Little League did so for Breast Cancer Awareness! (And, for the record, I’m not one of those to freak out about pink on a guy anyhow…)
**And, yes indeed, that is my son who looks like he was on the losing end of a fight. He fell running up our driveway and ended up needing “glue stitches” a mere week after his sister needed stitches in her face too… good times, good times.

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