The three-year-old girl in Ralph’s grocery store who called me “Grandma!”, had no idea I have Grandmother issues. Many things ran through my mind before I responded. I couldn’t tell her and her young father the whole untold story of my estranged grands.
I could only blurt out, “I wish!” from behind my mask.
She was the cutest little girl. Her curls bounced as she ran down the aisle. I would gladly be her Grandma. Her handsome Dad said by way of apology, “Her Grandmother wears her hair in braids like yours.”
I wish I had blown her a kiss.