Within the last week, moving vans have twice lumbered down our sleepy street. In one case to move a grandma into a family’s home; in the other, to move a family with a resident grandma out to a roomier place west of town. 

The disruptions of the pandemic, including virtual school, have put a new spin on resident grandparents, on their helpfulness and the value they add to nuclear family functioning. 

I wonder if some of these changes will become permanent, if we will move back to an older way of living, one where three generations living under one roof was the rule rather than the exception.

Now that I’m a grandparent, I wonder more about these things. 

(The old Vale Schoolhouse, which itself harkens back to an older era.)