My Grammo called me the other night to wish me a happy birthday. We used to hang out at her place every weekend in Walla Walla. Sometimes we would leave Ryann with her for an hour or two to give Ryann a chance to play with her cousins who are actually my cousins (large cross-generational Mexican family going on with us).
My Grammo doesn't cry. Usually. She's of the crusty, codger-y variety of Grammos.
Last night, after she heard my voice go thick while I was reassuring her that we're doing well, she got off the phone quick. But I heard her voice go thick too. And I know that across the country there were another pair of eyes that looked the same.