How is it that my little sister is a grandma,
and her husband (that cute blonde guy who
played baritone sax in the college night band)
is a grandpa?

And that they made a Lauren, and Lauren
(with Gerald) made a Henry (and now she’s
putting the finishing touches on their
soon-to-appear Rosie),

and, as my little sister and I bag and box,
discard and donate so much of our parents’
house to pass it to the next generation,
while outside, Kevin (with Ashley) prune
and rake and pull out deep-rooted ivy to remake
the front yard into a place of beauty.

In our family’s family room I watch that
little sister (now Grandma) climb into Henry’s
plastic corral to change his diaper
(Grandpa, the still-sax player, in there, too),

and it’s déjà vu all over again, as they say,
Aunt Jan remembering these two as young
parents just, oh, a blink of an eye ago,
raising a little Lauren and a little Kevin into
lovely humans with kind-hearted spouses.

I’m whooshed by that time-flying-by thing
right there in the house where we were raised,
watching the latest set of grandparents
in our family take such delight in the offspring
of their offspring, me stunned by so much life,
so heart-full at the sight of all them.