Perfect temperature.
Perfect age?
Growing up, always the youngest.
Now, I want to see them grow up.
Four grandchildren!
Cups runneth over all over the place,
all over the globe, it seems.
Sure, I have lots yet to see and do,
but, closest to the bone,
I want to see them grow up.
Even if it’s painful for them/for me?
I want to wave them off into adulthood.
It will be like seeing Aunt Rose
off on the Queen Mary. Bon voyage!
I want to/I need to/I can’t/I won’t/I must/
see them grow up.