For one bright, shining moment recently, all was right in my world as a mother and grandmother.

Brianna, my oldest, was happy with herself, happy in her job, happy with her Harley-riding boyfriend.

Andrea, my youngest, was happy with herself, in her job, and with her camera-toting boyfriend, too.

Megan, my middle daughter — mother to my grandsons and a teacher, too — was happy with the prospect of the school year ending, happy with her ever-so-helpful hubby, happy with being Mommy to my grandsons.

And I, mother and grandmother, was happy not only because they all were happy, but also because Megan mentioned she and Preston had accumulated enough Southwest rewards points that Megan and my grandsons could possibly, nay, probably, visit Gramma and PawDad at the end of May.

A probable visit meant my entire family (except Preston, who would have to work) would soon be together for the first time since June of last year.

A probable visit meant we'd all get to celebrate Mac's birthday and Bubby's birthday — which are both in June — while they're here.

A probable visit would mean Megan would get to meet her sisters' boyfriends who just might one day be more than that.

And a probable visit meant Bubby and Mac would finally get to dig for treasure in our back yard again, something Bubby had wished and wished and wished for during my visit a few weeks ago. (That and to watch Gramma make popcorn in the popcorn cart again, too.)

All was right and good in my world.

For one bright and shining moment.

Alas, how quickly those bright, shining moments fade.

Megan told me this past weekend that the possible trip to the mountains had become a definite-no-question-about-it no go. With many changes on the horizon for them, she and Preston would be consumed all summer working out important details on the this and that for their family.

Plus, when not working on this and that, they'd be using their Southwest reward points to attend the wedding of Preston's cousin. With no Southwest rewards to spare, a trip to the mountains to see family was simply not going to happen. Not soon. Not in the not-so-soon either.

*Poof!* My bright, shining moment vanished, with no reappearance likely for quite some time. At least when it comes to having my entire family together. At my place, at any place.

Sure, I will likely (I hope) get to see my grandsons before the end of 2013... at their place. But they — and Megan — won't get to visit my place. Worse yet, they won't get to see PawDad, Aunt B or Aunt Andie. And PawDad, Aunt B and Aunt Andie won't get to see them.

I get that other things must take priority at the moment. I sincerely get that. But that doesn't mean I can't be disappointed. Yet the word disappointed doesn't begin to explain how it feels.

Yes, I know it could be worse, that people are dealing with devastation beyond compare to my relatively trivial complaints. And there are innumerable parents and grandparents who have it far worse than I do, parents and grandparents who get to see their loved ones far less often than I do... if at all.

Perhaps I'm being silly. Jim and I have three daughters, and we get to see two of them as often as we — or they — choose. Two out of three ain't bad... or so I'm supposed to believe.

Every once in a while, though, I want more than two out of three. I want the trifecta of daughters all at one time — plus a double dose of grandsons, too. With PawDad. At our house. More for the sake of Jim and my other two daughters than for myself, as I do get to see Megan and the boys far more than the others do. But it's important the others see them, too, for it's hard to create close ties with family if chunks of the family never see one another. I want my grandsons to have close family ties — with all the chunks of our family.

For now, though, it's not going to happen. Definitely not this summer, and for who knows how long after that.

Priorities. I get it. I do. And I don't begrudge Megan doing what she must in figuring out important matters, doing what's right for her family. I really, truly, honestly get it.

But that doesn't mean I — and PawDad, Aunt B and Aunt Andie — can't be disappointed... or whatever the word for mega-super-duper-disappointed might be.

(It also doesn't mean I'll whine and wail forever. Just for today.)

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

The last time my family was all together was _____________.