I have three adult kids. My oldest is married and lives in Oklahoma with his wife and three kids, current ages five, seven, and nine; girl, girl, boy, respectively. I try and see them at least once a year; more if they travel to wherever I am. He’s a geophysicist working in the natural gas field, so he isn’t leaving OK anytime soon.
My second is my only daughter, a pediatric cardio echo-tech who loves children, travel, and family, not necessarily in that order. Because she is single, she has been able to travel quite a bit, primarily through three-month travel gigs around the country, but also internationally, since she has no qualms about traveling solo. She’s my gypsy, my independent free spirit, and (finally!) my friend.
My last child is my youngest son, pretty much a gift to me as he’s five years behind his sister. He is married with two beautiful daughters.
They’re all really cool people. They’re tons-o-fun, and I like them all lot, including their spouses. I’m not being facetious. I really like these people, and I’m very grateful for that. Heaven knows I have friends who still have a difficult relationship with at least one of their offspring. I’m lucky, and I know it.
What I never dreamed in a million years was that any of my kids would ever live near me. I knew full well that leaving Michigan would mean having to travel to see my kids and grandkids. I was prepared for that. But once again God smiled down on me, and at this point in time, two out of three of them live nearby. My youngest and his family are within 10 minutes of us, while my daughter is just a little over an hour away and comes often for visits, usually bringing her wonderful cousin with her.
For so many years I would hear friends talk about what they did with their kids over the weekends, and I would always say how lucky they were to have them near. Now I’m the lucky one, and I would never have believed it. Never in a MILLION!