Over Thanksgiving weekend, my parents threw a party to celebrate the season and introduce our extended family to the little ones. It was just like old times: Their house was brimming with people and booming with laughter. It was the way we celebrated so many holidays and events over the years.
As I wandered from room to room introducing little Henry to everyone, more than one person told me how weird it was to see me with a baby. I used to be the baby of the group, the youngest of all the children in the family, and now here I was carrying a child of my own.
At first, I rolled my eyes at the sentiment. I am, after all, 34 now, and have been all grown up for quite some time! But then I looked at my nieces and nephews who were toddling around when I was their age, and it made perfect sense.
And in that same way, I realized that someday, I would be like our parents—lolos and lolas—holding their grandchildren in their arms and marveling at the family that keeps on growing.