Love is a Title

When I was a teenager I had it in my head that I wouldn't live past my eighteenth birthday. I have no idea why I believed that. My eighteenth birthday came and went and I was married at 17. It was at that point I figured I'd outlived my own expectations so it was open season and I left off speculation and began to live. I married poorly and suffered the consequences; the kids suffered along with me.

Decades passed and somehow we got away. At thirty-eight I was blessed with my first grand daughter, Gabrielle. It was hard to believe I was a grandma. Single and a gramma! I was in love and and didn't have wrinkles yet. Silly how we envision ourselves to look at a certain number of years and when the time arrives we're surprised and shift the truth forward in our head a bit and let it settle comfortably in the now.

Fast forward and in January of 2020 that same grand daughter, at her birthday dinner, confides in us that she is expecting.

This is a miracle I never thought I'd be enjoying before retirement, and the novelty hasn't worn off.

These are the days you can't believe as a kid you'll ever see and when you do you pinch yourself to confirm it's all real.
photo credit: author

This is my five
minute freewrite using prompt grandma hosted by @mariannewest.

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