My brother is twenty years older than me and has lived most of his adult life in South Africa. When I was a little girl, I rarely saw him. He and his family would come home to the U. S. every five to six years. I missed him terribly and counted the days, weeks, months and years until I would see him again. When he was home for my birthday, it was a special day indeed.
My absolute favorite memory of those special birthdays was when I turned ten. My mother was gravely ill throughout my childhood which meant we did not do a lot of celebrating. I was thrilled when she would be well enough to bake a cake for my birthday. This was going to...