Love It

I'm needed. Not needy.  There's a huge difference. Let me explain. As a child of geriatric grandparents I was needed to fulfill domestic duties beyond their capabilities. A lost childhood in many ways.  With 70 years gap between me and my grandparents, there was a need to be a good girl, a need to pick things up, a need to clean and a need to garden.  I didn't resent this though, they were phenomenal people who paid me back a million times over in support and kindness. In practical terms too by teaching, guiding, training and making things for me. No regrets, just love. Then as the child of geriatric parents I had to undertake a whole pile of domestic duties. I was given a hand-drill for my 10th birthday by a  neighbour as he didn't feel it right I should be using power tools to undertake maintenance on the family home.  I got a sewing machine too.  Painting, sewing, cooking, cleaning and tidying up after those who either couldn't or wouldn't.  All...

So we've become the sandwich generation. The meat in the sandwich of a genetic luncheon platter. How? When did this happen? I had a deep and meaningful discussion with the ham to my cheese this morning. We talked about lots of funnies before hitting some serious stuff.  Sandwiches. You see we are children, but we are parents. These other generations are the bread that make the sandwich. They are both absorbed with what they need, what they are, and generally consumed with whether they are white, brown, 5 seed, rye, or gluten free! They can be thick, thin, toast, even rolls really. Yet, while they are consumed with themselves, without us what are they? A lump of substance that lacks strength, that can be sliced, torn, used to soak up the spillls, toasted or croutoned! They are not a sandwich. And now think of a sandwich. The variety, the flavour, it is almost a life force. You can live on sandwiches. 3 meals a day - a bacon and egg sarnie for breakfast, a smoked salmon, cre...