She was only here for five nights. The last time I saw her was in January on the Gold Coast.

I'm one of those grandparents who witters on about the highs and lows, the bitter sweet of having grandchildren living abroad.

The lows are obvious: the absence, the disconnection from little ones who grow and develop at a disconcerting rate. The highs are little more complex: the joy of reunion and reconnection is peppered with the reality of another heart wrenching farewell when home time comes.

The apprehension of whether they will remember you (or even still like you)