January 6

It was another low-key day. Adam worked from grandma's office, the boys played in the basement, and Abby and I went on a shopping excursion (during which I wowed her with my extensive knowledge of the area. As I explained, you learn your way around when you have a 45-minute, traffic-pocked drive to school each day.)

Anyhow, a short time after Abby and I got back, my mom returned with my grandma, who she'd taken out to run a few errands. As we all stood around in the kitchen, I summoned the boys to say hello and then handed Isaac my phone so he could take some photos.

And behold, four generations of women: Abby at 17, me at 43, my mom at 75, and my grandma at 99. 

None of us are what I'd call carbon copies of one another; although we share some traits (like a love for creating various types of textiles and an inclination toward worrying), we're all our own distinctive people with separate --and in some cases very different-- preferences and opinions. And I've definitely learned quite a lot about this life we share from each of them. So for the blessing of them, I am grateful.