Three Generations

Three generations. Three different lives. The two most important women in my life.

The three of us are separated by almost sixty years. My grandma is almost 90. She looks great. She still read the newspaper, watches the news, and calls her grandkids on her cell phone. And my mama? Well, she is my mama. She knows me better than I know myself. She makes me want to be a better a mother, be a better teacher, be a better wife. She carries me when I am stumbling and is my biggest cheerleader regardless of the feat.

The three women in that picture above have lived through MAJOR moments in history. For my grandmother it was the Great Depression. she will tell you what life was like and it still shows in her today. My mother can tell you where she was the day, the minute, and the second, Kennedy was shot. And I can tell you where I was the exact moment I heard the news that the first tower crashed on that fateful day in September 2001.

That is what we have. Three generations of women. My mother, my grandmother and me. Three generations of females who resemblance is obvious, whose friendship with one another deeply rooted, whose loyalty is fierce and whose personalities are so similar that if you didn’t see us, you would be confused who you were talking to. Do we bicker? Yes. Do we disagree? Daily. Do we drive each other crazy? Always. But I am one of them and I am proud to be a part of them. I am proud to the third Pellegrino woman. And, I am grateful they are in my life.