Milestones

Giblet can turn over.  FlapJilly wants chapter books.  My little girl has two little ones of her own.   I am a grandmother.

On the phone last weekend, Seret and I spent all together too much time discussing the fact that we are as old as we are, and wondering how we got here.

I'm sending brownies to the children of people I knew as children themselves.  My niece wants us to meet her boyfriend. 

My high school class's 50th Reunion Committee just emailed a list of housing options.  I remember Graduation Day vividly: McDonalds between the ceremonies; shock that I'd failed the Math 12X final and still passed the course; hissing the Salutatorian (it's a long story, but she deserved the opprobrium); saying goodbye to the A-Ba kids I'd sat with for 6 years in homeroom, not realizing that, for some, 5 decades would pass before I saw them again.

I can call up the emotions I felt that day without any effort at all.  It doesn't seem possible that fifty years have passed since I cried in anticipation of missing my boyfriend.  I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving that November; thinking about it still leaves a hole in the middle of my chest.

Little Cuter and I talked about creating an annual Christmas adventure for FlapJilly and me.  Nannie would have loved taking her littlest granddaughter out on the town; I'm determined to have that memory with mine.  It has to be something that will age well; Barnes and Noble followed by frozen yogurt comes to mind.

And perhaps, someday, fifty years from now, the four year old will create an adventure with a four year old grandkid of her own.

It seems that I'm making a milestone.