Since last posting, I have published another book, continued with my biblical studies, and kept in pretty good physical shape. Despite these consistencies, and feeling internally just as I always have, something happened to me that re-defines my position in life.
It started when my kids were teenagers. My son, the third of my children, for instance, at age 17 started dating a very beautiful redhead. Post high-school, he spent a year abroad, dreaming of her and trying to find internet connections so they could communicate.
Five years after he met her, my son married this lovely, smart, loyal woman, who continued in her own education to become an oncology nurse. They had a breathtakingly lovely wedding and, despite my son's youth, soon found themselves expecting a baby.
But wait! I'm supposed to be the Mommy! You're supposed to be the baby!
But...me a grandma? Impossible. Everyone inquired, "What's your 'grandma name' going to be?" I didn't want one. I finally said, okay, little Julia can call me what my own firstborn was able to say earliest: "Meh-Meh."
But Julia couldn't say the shvah "eh" sound, so I became "Mimi." I didn't choose Mimi. I chose Mommy, Mama and Mom. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt.
Julia started toddling and became increasingly irresistible. Then she got a job: flower girl at her aunt's wedding. She was to wear a fern wreath on her hair and walk down the aisle dropping rose petals. The wedding, on Memorial Day in a forest, was exquisite. Julia refused the wreath, eschewed the petals, and paused along the walkway. And stole the show, at least for a few minutes.
Several months later, Julia got a baby sister, Emily. A dark-haired beauty whose language is smiles. But it was too late to start over: I am Mimi, like it or not.
Several months more, and now, in June, 2020, in the midst of coronavirus craziness, the bride Julia momentarily upstaged gave birth. A boy! Definitely the cutest little boy to ever fill a mama's forearm. And I'm no longer to deny my status. Yes, I'm a...Mimi.
So, Mazel tov to my daughter and son-in-law on the arrival of little Micah, and continued pride to my son and daughter-in-law on the ongoing accomplishments of Julia and Emily as they wend through toddler-hood into childhood, and remind me that time does not freeze. In fact, they say it's like a roll of toilet paper: It goes faster the closer you get to the end. (Back to that river in Egypt!)