As I bear witness to my granddaughter’s transformation, I reflect on what my mother told me. My granddaughter is changing into a woman. I can see the change and I am sure she does not. Instead, we are talking about college and work.
When I was much younger and broken-down post-divorce and complaining bitterly about my losses: my mother asked me to look at my son and told me that nothing else mattered, I have my son.
I am here staring at my granddaughter and thanking God that we got her, vis a vi my son.
More than anything, this matters.
My son has been a great single father. He not only had custody of this girl-woman, but he, like so many others, did not get help from the mother of his child.
Here we are, able to bear witness to this amazing transformation, a girl who becomes a woman, right in front of our eyes. We are becoming old, it is not a burden, we both agree that we are tired indeed. Here steps this breath of fresh air, her step into the living room to tell us all about what is going on this week. We are beyond lucky to be her audience.
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