Two weeks ago, we picked up this crew alongside the road. It was a scheduled pick-up. They came for the annual Cousins Camp at our house. We met half-way between our house and all of theirs in a two-vehicle caravan both ways. One hour into our return trip, we made the first of many stops for bathroom breaks and snack attacks.

At this McDonald’s, other grandmothers kept stopping me as I walked by their tables to ask questions about what we were doing, where we were going, and whether or not the kids were all ours. Then we shared the universal smiles and nods of grandmothers everywhere.

As we were leaving, one more lady stopped me for a quick word. When I turned back to the kids, six-year-old J. Paxton gave me his serious face. “You don’t know her, right?”

“Right.”

“Then why are you talking to her?!”

My husband told Pax he was wondering the same thing. I started to explain about the sisterhood of grandmothering. About the code and the bond and the mysterious draw of women who pray for generations. But, I could tell these guys just wanted to get on the road. “I write books for grandmothers,” I said. “It’s important that I talk to them.”

If you’re a grandmother (or a reader of the Glory Circle books), I think you’ll understand.