GRANDMA. The word slips off my tongue. Two syllables.
Baby. Also two syllables.
In less than two months, I will hold my sweet granddaughter, my first grandchild, in my arms.
Love. One syllable.
This weekend guests will gather in my Faribault home to shower the mom-to-be and dad-to-be with gifts. The other grandparents are flying in from California. My second daughter will drive 300 miles from eastern Wisconsin to be here for her sister. Aunts and cousins will join us for lunch and a few games. Down in the finally-updated basement, guests will stamp designs onto onesies.
It promises to be a lovely day.
Sure we’ll be a bit cramped for space. But we’ll make do as we ooooh and aaaah over baby gifts and laugh and talk and eat.
There will be hugs and “I love yous.” There will be the usual questions about how my daughter is feeling. Maybe prying questions, too, about Baby Girl’s name. Not even this Grandma knows.
But mostly, we will celebrate. Simply celebrate this baby girl who is already loved by so many.
© Copyright 2016 Audrey Kletscher Helbling