I remember quite vividly when it happened with my Gma.  She had had an emergency appendectomy and needed help when she came home from the hospital.  I left my children in the care of friends and headed to California.  A few days after coming home, she wanted to wash her hair, but didn’t feel quite steady enough to be in the shower that long.  She and I were in the master bedroom bathroom and I was helping her with soaping up her hair.  We caught each other’s eyes in the mirror and she asked ‘Does this feel weird for you too?’.

I stay at Megan’s when I’m in Phoenix.  I do my best to not intrude in her life or make myself a nuisance.   Lately, I’ve noticed all these little things that she does.  She washed my pillow case because she thought it might need it.  She fussed at me because I wasn’t taking time for breakfast before my trip.  She was making brownies and just brought me the batter laden whisk after she finished mixing.  All of a sudden I wondered ‘OMG, is it happening?  Is she becoming ‘the’ adult’?

The first time I heard my mother come out of my mouth I was horrified.  The first time that I heard myself come out of Janelle’s mouth, I thought it was funny (okay, truth be told…I still get a kick out of it.  Sorry JBells.)  I remember being quite pleased with myself the first time that I made one of my mom’s ‘famous’ dishes and it tasted almost as good as when she made it.  I was a bit melancholy, but very proud, when Megan offered me a taste of meat dressing (which was delicious btw) because she was making it for her Thanksgiving dinner.

In 1973, my grandparents opened their home to their oldest daughter and her two little girls and their dog.  My grandma made sure that we knew that we would always have a home, food in our tummies, and that we were safe.  She got us where we needed to go, took us on vacation in the summer, sewed dresses for dances and graduations, and so much more.  This, all the while taking care of her younger daughter who was dealing with PT and OT and recovering from multiple surgeries.

In 1973, my grandma was the around the age that I am now.

I thought she was old.

Funny, I don’t think I’m old.

I’m not there anymore, but there was a time that I was very much in that caretaking ‘sandwich’ where you’re still raising children, yet taking care of an older family member.  I had a conversation with someone about how there were things that I could allow someone else to do, specifically my Gma’s laundry.  I told them that there had been a time where she had taken care of me and now it was my turn to take care of her.  Don’t get me wrong…I bitched and moaned and cried to my sister over the phone almost daily.  I was envious of those whose days weren’t filled with (occasionally) snarky, sneaky teens and a snarky, (occasionally) sneaky grandma.

I didn’t think that period of my life would ever end.

The truth is, nothing lasts forever.

Right now, I’m in this lovely space…my children are grown and finding their way on their life paths.  We chat over the phone and enjoy the time we get to spend together.  When we get together, we make plans and just kind of do whatever sounds great…

But remember, nothing lasts forever.

Eventually, the shift will happen in it’s entirety and they will fully be ‘the’ adults.  I hope that I did my work well enough that when I can’t take care of them anymore that they will be filled with and carried by the memories of when I did.