Jam tarts for tea

Another year!
Sigh!
Busy with ancestry stuff and tracing lines of family back to their origins.
Sigh!
In recognition of my ancestors I am lucky to have survived to this day, 19 September.
Sigh!
So many gone before, and before this age.
Sigh!
I am emptying of anger and filling with grief.

Another birthday.
Another bright spring day when thoughts fly back to my father saying every year...
"Ah spring, the time when life is renewed and my youngest daughter was born".

You miss your parents and the idea of a 'birthday' means so little without them here.

I miss my children and they are so far, always so far, if not in kilometres in connections. They are truly independent.

But:
For four years both birthdays and Christmas' I have been asking for two gifts. One is mulch for the garden so I don't have to do so much weeding. The other is for a new pair of secetures for these arthritic hands.
I got 'em both!
I am delighted!
No little Princess here, requiring restaurants, diamonds, boats, holidays or travel.
Just 'dirt' ( as my youngest calls it) and an implement for snipping trees.

Me me me. Today is allowed to be about me.
But I am finding so little to say.

The rhyme goes;

It is my birthday today
Jam tarts for tea
Yum yum pigs bum
You can't come.

Another from the vaults.

My poor mum.
My dear mum.
My loving mum.
I came unbidden. I was an oops baby. Not planned, not desired. I think she wanted a boy. He said he didn't mind if it was a red head girl. I was neither. And there's the oops once again.
It does affect you.

So here I am.
Fifty six if you want to know.
I am now an 'elder' of my tribe.
I am equal to the male members because I am no longer fertile.
I am here.

And here I will stay until another day.

Cheers!!!

Jam tarts for tea

Another year!
Sigh!
Busy with ancestry stuff and tracing lines of family back to their origins.
Sigh!
In recognition of my ancestors I am lucky to have survived to this day, 19 September.
Sigh!
So many gone before, and before this age.
Sigh!
I am emptying of anger and filling with grief.

Another birthday.
Another bright spring day when thoughts fly back to my father saying every year...
"Ah spring, the time when life is renewed and my youngest daughter was born".

You miss your parents and the idea of a 'birthday' means so little without them here.

I miss my children and they are so far, always so far, if not in kilometres in connections. They are truly independent.

But:
For four years both birthdays and Christmas' I have been asking for two gifts. One is mulch for the garden so I don't have to do so much weeding. The other is for a new pair of sce