“You came because you have a life change,” she said as we sat down across from each other. She meant a game changer.
I’m a grandmother. I share mundane responsibilities for one of my grandsons. He and his mother and I live under one roof. We have the common spaces with our own sorta’ private bedrooms. Sorta’ private because it’s all common space for the youngest of us.
Are we mother-daughter-son-grandson or roommates? Are we family or friends? The lines are blurred. The roles unclear. We fight. We do things together. We do things alone.
How do you think I feel about my responsibilities in this household? I love them. I hate them. I have a friend with sole responsibility for a grandchild. We mention the grandfather with responsibility for a couple of his. I feel like the lucky one for shared and not sole.
Sometimes I feel unappreciated and my dreams ignored. I can imagine what the young may feel. Dreams are for us. I think my grandson is growing up, and I’m growing old. I dream of shirking and shedding. I didn’t ask for it. I remind myself I willingly accepted it. No one said it was easy.
I told my grandson I wanted to run away from home. He laughed. He told me to go. He didn’t understand the serio comic. I gave him a hug and said “I love you.” He said it back. He doesn’t need another game changer.