We share a middle name. I did not expect that. Nor I did expect how quick and unannounced grandmother tears come. They showed up first in the shower the morning I knew my daughter was in labor and again standing by the sink in her kitchen a dozen hours later as my husband washed birth off his granddaughter's head.

"Can Dad wash her hair before you leave?" our daughter asked. She has watched her daddy bathe babies for two and a half decades. While she closed her eyes and rested deep on her pillow, her father showed her husband how to wash a little girl's hair. And I wiped tears.