Birthday, Genealogy, Live Family, Dead Relatives

It's been a long day and I'm tired.  My birthday is officially over, and that's good.  I'm uncomfortable about my birthday.  Not because I dread getting older, I'm not a vain woman, but because I get anxious from all the attention a birthday brings.

Two of my sons and their wives brought me cake and presents and that was nice.  I got to play with 5 of my 10 grandchildren, whom I adore.  We all laughed and I told about the Lemmond family I've been working on and they managed to hide their boredom pretty convincingly.  I was appreciative.

The phone rang off and on today.  I answered some calls and let the machine take others.  Then the phone gave a single ring and went silent and for a moment it crossed my mind that it was my father, who passed in 2010, calling me as he'd always done on my birthday.  Of course, says my rational, logical mind, it wasn't him.  But it could have been, says my magical, dreamy side.  I've been working so hard on other people's families lately, maybe I was given a small birthday gift, even think it could have been my beloved father calling me with birthday wishes.  And for a moment his face was so clear in my mind; his smile, his laugh, that tears welled up.  They didn't fall, and I went back to researching this other Lemon family that has become so important to me for reason I can't explain.

I have to remember to never take the living family I have for granted.  That I even have to remind myself of that means I'm getting too consumed by this passion for names and places and dates of people long, long gone.