Family, Love, Memories, Michigan, Our Daughter, Our Son, Photos

My Grandparents. My Kids.

I had a dream about my grandma last week. She came to my house and knocked on my door. When I opened the door, the sun was shining bright behind her. She was wearing blue. Her face was radiant. She walked in. She breathed freely. She wore make up. And the color blue. She was smiling. Happy. And beautiful.

That day I had looked at my daughter. Her long fingers, just like her Grandma. I wished that she had met my daughter. Like she met my son. And in my dream, she did.


We took a road trip to Michigan when Tallula was just three weeks old to attend the wedding of a close friend of mine. It was a bit crazy to embark on such an adventure. But we do that. And being there, reunited with my two closest friends from high school, made the rough ride worth it. (There was a lot of stopping. A lot of crying. And not a lot of sleeping.) The other thing that made it worth it? Introducing my daughter to Grandpa. And watching Sebastian walk up to him with the biggest smile ever.


1 thought on “My Grandparents. My Kids.”

  1. Beautifully written as always Kara with the sentiments so strong. I know only too well the huge impact grandparents have in a child’s life. I have seen it so often with my own parents and this unique bond they seem to have with my nieces and nephews. We can never underestimate how special grandparents are in a child’s life.


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