“Did I ever tell you about the day after you were born?” I asked my youngest as we headed out to lunch. “I was so euphoric. I knew all my children.”
She confirmed that I had told her. “Many times,” she said.
It’s one of my life’s vivid moments: sitting in bed on a Sunday morning, holding my newborn while waiting for my two preschoolers to arrive to meet their sister, just hours old.
“Uh-oh. I sound like Pop-pop, repeating myself,” I said, referring to my father, who lived into his nineties.
“It’s okay,” my now thirty-something child said. “Where are we going for lunch?”
“Your birthday,” I said. “Your choice.”
She named my father’s favorite lunch spot.
The host showed us to our table.
As I slid into the booth, I said, “This is the same table I ate at with Pop-pop the last time we went out to lunch.” That was four years ago, about a month before my dad died. “Only last time, I sat where you are and Dad sat over here, where I am.”
I nodded at the grown woman across from me and thought, The tables have turned.
Anna-Marie Groenewald says
So slowly and so suddenly the table turns for all of us.
Sweet sweet story.
Lucinda Dee says
Oh boy, do they turn. My boys like to tease me that I sound like grandma. 😂
Brenda Bingham says
What a nice story. Always enjoy your posts. Happy Holidays.