I am upset.
Ever since I remember my birthday has always been a special one. My parents have made every effort to remember it, even now that I am a
little much older my mother starts thinking of my birthday a good month ahead, and a little gift has always been offered by daddy- from poems and books to other treats.
Why I am upset, you ask?
Well, I always had this little dream in my head to light a candle on a little cake with “Happy Birthday Dad” or “Happy Birthday Mum” written on it.
I have never known my parents’ real birthday. My mother was told she is exactly six months older than her cousin, so she adds six months to his date of birth and she has at least an estimated accurate date of birth.
As for my father, his mother told him he was born on a cold winter day, yet all his documents say July 1.
Dear reader, today is the birthday of half my uncles and aunts, half of my country’s older generation. Either because their documents were lost, stolen, destroyed or they didn’t even have any document to prove their day of birth. Hence, everyone was given July 1.
Imagine now knowing which date you were born in.. Just another example reflecting the tough experiences of our parents and grandparents.
For now, lots of love from
My Nest in Kurdistan