Generations of laughs and loss. A brilliant surgeon, a broken actor, a retired dancer, a protestor in search of direction, a carpenter in search of a flock, great moms, new daughters, reluctant dads, a fourth son, and a litter of grandchildren.
My mother-in-law lays sleeping on a twin sized bed, happily crowded out by her grand-daughter. She seems content to doze on the sliver of real estate she’s been leased.
Quietly I close the door so my morning prep for work won’t disturb her.
Our days are so much easier when the grand-parents are around.
Autonomy and the nuclear family seem post-apocalyptic now.
Pack up your bags I say. Move back to the Village.
Daily Post: Mind Reader