I don’t talk much about my grandmother. With good reason. I have too much to say… much too much.

I just got off the phone with her. She called me to wish me a happy birthday. She reminded me she couldn’t stay long, because she can’t call early in the morning, because she knows I have to get up early in the morning. She also reminded me that this was the high, high charge time and she’s always watching her phone bill.

She told me she recieved my last letter, but that she can’t really bother with the writing anymore, because she’s got pain, you know, the arthritis bothering her, the sinuses bothering her.

But she just wanted me to hear her voice for my birthday… like she’s been doing since I know myself.

My mother called 20 minutes later, and sang ‘Happy Birthday (Tomorrow)” for me, and to deliver a special greeting from my brother in Trini (the one I grew up with). She said I should feel honoured, because he doesn’t remember anyone else’s birthday.

She said she’s been struggling to come to grips with having a 31 year-old daughter. Been struggling with it for the last three weeks.

:sigh: And I’m the one turning 31.

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The Vault


mermaid, dayo's mama, water priestess, chaNjuzu, writer, web developer, omo yemoja, dos aguas, obsessive reader, sci-fi fan, trini-bajan, combermerian, second life, music, music, music!