Charming, but single

"I had a picture of the baby, and everyone thought he was my grandson," Mom announced as we gossiped in Southern style, around the cleared table, munching on angel food cake and pistachio pudding, a cool Sunday dessert.

"And I said, 'No no!' He's my NEPHEW," she said emphatically. "My friends are just amazed that I'm not more upset about not having grandchildren."

My mom took a sip of iced tea and looked on as the baby in question, my cousin, slept soundly in my arms. I'd been holding him and cooing at him and he'd slipped into sleep before I could put him down.

"Oh really?" I asked, almost accusatorily.

My grandmother interrupted to give me pointers on holding the baby. My aunt interrupted to point out that as the oldest of all of the grandchildren, I was quite skilled in baby handling. I could feel a satisfied smile coming across my face in appreciation that someone recognized the number of diapers I'd changed and bottles I'd made over the years.

"Yes," Mom said. "Well, I always tell my friends that if y'all had kids, it would be a case of kids raising kids."

"Is that so?" I brushed my fingertips across the child's cheek and listened to his gentle breathing. I didn't disagree. But I wanted to make a point.

"Then why are you trying to set me up with every divorcee who crosses your path?"

I angled my iced tea glass so I wouldn't drop condensation on the baby's head and pointed my eyes to Mom.

"Well, I want you to be with SOMEONE," she said, emphasizing the last word as if I am all alone, free of human interaction.

"Yes, honey," my grandmother interrupted, again.

"A woman needs a companion."