I thought it would 50 or 60 years. I thought we would turn into old people together, cherish our grandchildren together, have Christmases and Independence Days and birthdays together, with a big family and lots of noise and little kids running around while their parents try to shush them and we would tell them to make all the noise they want and here’s a cookie.
We were going to see the Grand Canyon and the redwoods and Wine country New York City Niagra Falls Catalina Island Crater Lake and The Badlands. Take a train ride.
He was going to build a cradle and a crib and a dollhouse go-kart tire swing chicken coop rebuild a car teach blacksmithing dovetails carving and I was going to watch and cluck about the noise and mess and feed them cookies.
I was going to get him a basset hound and he was going to get me a golden retriever. He was going to keep me in convertibles until I got tired of my hair getting messed up and I was going to keep him in trucks until it got too hard to get out of them.
I was going to fuss about the mess. He was going to tell me to quit fussing.
Now what? Who am I going to get old and fat with? Who’s going to compliment my cooking and encourage me to get the nice stuff? Who am I going to cook for in 2 years, when #4 leaves home?
Who am I supposed to sit on the patio with, have an adult beverage and quiet conversation, when the sun still shines at 6 p.m.? What am I supposed to do with the evenings?
Who do I talk to now? Who’s going to be Grandpa? Now what?