It’s my birthday.
There’s a few things I’ve been pondering, wondering and humoring myself about regarding this day.
I have so many people who have been making a point of pointing out and acknowledging my birthday. This makes me feel quite…. Loved. Or at the very least, liked! And that just feels good. No fancy words needed here. It just feels good.
But then that makes me feel bad. Because I am horrible at remembering people’s birthdays. There’s no excuse, no reason, no valid explanation. I just don’t remember. People I’ve known for twenty years, I can’t remember. Half the time I forget my siblings birthdays and I’ve known all of them well over twenty years. In fairness to me regarding my siblings, I always think about their birthdays. For example, oh my, it’s February so it’s X, X and X’s birthdays. It’s April so it’s X’s birthday. Etc. There are seven of them, so you get the idea. But usually the day arrives and though I may have told myself twenty times in the month up to their birthday, the day of their birthday I am usually unaware as the day goes by. Maybe about 11 p.m. I’ll wake up and think “CRAP!”
So it’s an extra blessing when a sibling actually remembers me on my day.
And friends? They astound me with their recollection of birth anniversaries. They didn’t share in the day of my birth or all of the wonderful homemade birthday cakes the siblings shared with me annually. And by the way, with 8 of us every year, how many cakes did my siblings and I share? I am pretty sure one of my genius friends (I have many) will let me know this tally. Back to the friends…they didn’t share that with me. Yet they remember my day. Again, with me not remembering theirs MOST of the time. Sometimes I surprise myself and DO actually remember. But they ALWAYS remember. So my friends, on my birthday, accept my apologies. Because every time one of you tells me happy birthday, or gets me a card, or does something incredibly sweet I think “CRAP” because I am reminded I have forgotten your birthday. Or even worse, can’t remember if I did remember, or forget, your birthday.
But mostly what I think about is my parents. On a day, this day, a few years ago, my parents went to a hospital. They’d been through this routine before. But as we all know it’s never a repeat. Each birth is unique and individual. The process may be similar to something before, but it’s different. I know this for a fact. Firstly because I am one of eight and there is not a one of us who is a replica of the other. Even the twin brothers who are identical, are not. Secondly I know this because I have children. One is not like the other. So on this day my parents had me. I can’t say I wish I was there because I was. But wouldn’t it be neat if at some brief moment in our lives, maybe a later day birthday, we could revisit that moment of joy with our parents. I guess maybe there’s a better chance of people doing that now, with that fancy thing they call video now. But on that day, that feeling they had, they shared, the intenseness of it’s a new little person. And it was me. Yeah, what a moment. I wish I could have looked up at them then and said “thanks for having me”.
I couldn’t then.
But I can now.
Thanks Mom and Dad, for having me.
It’s a grand life.