My little girl

I awoke from a dream around 5:00 this morning. I dreamed that my daughter came to my bed in the middle of the night, thumb in mouth, and silently crawled under the covers with me. She was maybe 5 or 6, with short blonde hair and a blankie. I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her on the head. "I love you so, so much," I whispered, and felt her relax into sleep.

I know where that dream came from. Yesterday my daughter took my mother with her to shop for clothes for her new job. When I got off work I called Nikki to see how things had gone. She said they were still at it, so I drove out to meet them at Old Navy. As soon as Nikki turned to greet me, I knew it had been a trying day. Her eyes showed exhaustion, frustration, sadness. Grandma has been her best friend her entire life, but Grandma's sharp wit and intellect are being overwhelmed by dementia. Their roles are beginning to reverse. It's confusing, but Nikki will hang in there with her to the end. I put my arm around Nikki and kissed her on the head.

Soon she headed for the dressing room, and Mom followed. Nikki said "Grandma likes to see me naked," and Mom laughed. I sat outside the room on a bench, watching a young lady and her mother selecting bright dresses for a curly-haired toddler. Nikki spoke from behind the door: "I have an octogenarian you can have for free. She's free!" I chuckled and said, "I'm watching a baby out here." She replied, "I'd like to be playing with MY baby right now." "I know, Sweetie. You'll be home with her soon." Later, in the checkout line, Nikki confided, "Grandma's hard to shop with. She likes to touch every little thing." "Yes, I know," I said, "you should see how much fun we have in Wal-Mart."

We walked together to our cars. Nikki hugged us both, her head turning amusingly from one of us to the other as she said, "Thank you for going with me. Thank you for buying my clothes. Thank you for giving Grandma a ride home." More hugs, then she got in her car and drove away, no doubt wishing she could just be transported home, Star Trek-style, instead of driving for 45 minutes. Mom and I went across the street to Taziki's and enjoyed a delicious Greek meal. Every 5 minutes or so Mom would ask, "Do you think she's home yet?," saying out loud what both of us were thinking inside. "No, Mom, she's still got a ways to go." We relaxed when Nikki texted me simply, "I'm home."

My daughter is a great mother, fiercely protective but proud of Caroline's independent streak, playful yet strict. She cherishes every minute with her child even when what she most needs is a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. But she's also a scientist. She worked so hard to finish her master's in biology, spending hour upon hour in the genetics lab. Now she's landed a good job and is eager to begin, but I know that every day, every minute, she'll be torn between loving her work and missing her own little blonde-haired girl.

And so the story repeats itself and continues, from mother to mother to mother. I love you so, so much, my baby girl. I hope you know.