Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have grandparents.

I have, of course, had grandparents. But I was too young to know them well... or well enough. And they weren't around for too long. There was, however, no dirth of great-aunts and great-uncles in our extended family. Interactions with them - on occasions when that rather large extended family got together - were limited to "Oh look! How you've grown!", accompanied by immediate concern over my scrawny self. On my part there were, usually, embarrassed mumblings and a close scrutiny of my toes as they wriggled uneasily.

But among those many great-aunts and great-uncles there were some who were genuinely loveable and others greatly avoidable.

My last grandparent passed away when I was 11. So I can safely say that I did most of my growing-up without one. And there were times when I felt that having one of the loveable great-aunts as a grand-parent would be rather fun. I even envied (a tad bit) the cousins who had these loveable great-aunts as their own grandparent.

As growing-up (the physical part, i.e) drew to an end and I hurtled into college life, I heard of several grandparents from my friends. Marriages being pushed onto their plates, careers being vetoed, clothes being sneered at... And then, sometimes, I thanked my stars that I didn't have a grand parent like their's.

Now, I almost surprise myself by missing my grandparents sometimes - not all of them though. I think it would have been rather nice to have them around. Perhaps because I have learnt a little more about them, perhaps because I know I am old enough to have my way when I know it's right, perhaps because I think it would be fun to exchange notes with a wisened, old soul once in a while.

I wish a couple of them had not left as soon as they did.