Not all about me

I don't know how often I heard my mom say, "There are ears in the cornfield," but when she said it around my birthday my mind would go roaming freely through the toy store. Now I'm going to go off on a tangent here because it's my blog and I can. Why should any of us deserve presents on our birthday? I did nothing more than be knit together in my mother's womb, which required no effort on my part, and exited the womb at the appointed time. Yet every year from the time I could understand the concept I expected a gift. Okay just so you know, I'm done with the tangent and getting back to the subject. I realize now what I didn't know then. Around my tenth birthday the conversations weren't always about me or something as trivial as a birthday gift. At least I hope not and I'll explain why later. I don't remember what I got for my 10th birthday because it's overshadowed by what happened 5 days later. I came home from school and my father had been put in a convalescent hospital. The pastor spoke in church recently about individual decisions having a domino effect on others. Boy was he right. That must've been a tough choice for my mom to make and that's why I said I hope not all her cornfield conversations were just about me. I hope she had someone to bear the burden of having to hospitalize her husband. I'm sure part of that burden was worrying about my brother and me. My teacher says I grew alot that year and was doing very well in school. On one hand I can't imagine my life any other way. On the other I wish mom was talking about what to get me for my birthday.