In one of my favorite series of books, (The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon, specifically Drums of Autumn), one of the characters describes a condition known as 'granny lust,' which evidently is the desire for grandchildren of one's own. I truly never thought I'd have to deal with that problem until this morning.
As I may have mentioned, I am about to become a grandmother. Said grandchild is due to arrive in approximately 8 weeks, give or take a few, and while I was getting ready to go to work today, it hit me all of a sudden, that this little girl we've been talking about and planning for will very shortly be here with us. I'll be able to hold her, love her (actually I love her already), tell her scurrilous stories about her father, sing lullabyes to her, and read to her. It hit me quite hard. It was a physical longing to hold my grandchild.
But I had no clue at that point just how strong the longing for her was. Until mid-morning, when I walked down to our coffee bar to make a cup of tea. And standing there was a prospective parent who was holding a tiny baby girl. I oooed and aaahed over her, found out baby girl was just 7 weeks old. And all the while I was carrying on a conversation with this unsuspecting mom, I was restraining myself from grabbing that poor baby so I could hold it.
Scary. Very, very scary.
