Who, me? Naaaw. And I wouldn’t have drunk the poison, either. But isn’t it amazing how much we don’t know about each other when all we have is our words. For instance, did you know that my youngest (who will soon be 28) is about to have her first? A girl, due July 10th.

Pregnancies are always miracles. They transcend our mundane lives, whether yours, mine, or a woman I pass on the street. Here’s something that was a secret for forty years, but is now public, albeit shocking, knowledge. My Grace miscarried in college, twin girls. She hadn’t even known she was pregnant. Her fiance had broken up with her and moved away. No one but her doctor and her sister (and I) knew until she wrote her obituary. She loved those girls and wanted to ensure that they were included among her children. A month or so before she died, she tracked down their father to tell him, the first time they’d spoken in forty years. No hard feelings. She just wanted him to know.

She named her twins Kelli and Megan. She celebrated their birthday every year, and in the years I was with her, she would remind me how old they were, and she would tell me what they would be doing now, had they lived. One would be an architect, one would be a writer, the two great longings absent from Grace’s life.

Grace and I each already had adult kids when we met. We also each had already had our ‘ectomy surgeries, so a ridiculous conception was our only chance for a child together, but still Grace would often daydream about the baby we might have conceived while we were in Tokyo. The fact that we didn’t was definitely not from lack of trying. It would’ve been a girl, of course. Possibly twins.

Congratulations on your soon-to-be grandchild. Best of luck to her parents.

Writing about life and love, along with a few crazy stories just for fun.

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