Yesterday I completed sixteen years of my lovely life. I have walked on the grounds of Earth for sixteen years, treaded its mountains and swum in its oceans. Since I knew what birthday meant, I had been super excited for my birthday. I used to tell my parents,"Oi! Exactly one month left for my birthday!" or even "5 months left!". Absurd as it sounds, I now realise that it was an innocence that bloomed within me. My father used to tell me not to do it because I was only reducing the surprise element for myself. However, I continued with my mission to continually remind everyone around me that my birthday was just around the corner. Sometimes, to tease my father, I would say one day after my birthday "Woohoo! Just one year left for my birthday!". Ah....what a time that was.
Apart from my birthdays, I would also get enlivened for the birthdays of others. My mother's, sister's, brother's and father's birthdays were as special to me as my own.
This enthusiasm for my own birthday lasted only till my fifteenth birthday.
I dreaded yesterday. For a month, I wished September to pass by quickly, and along with it, I wanted October 1 (my birthday) to pass by as well. My family brought me lovely things. In our family, we do not believe in materialistic love. It is about what truly matters. My sister brought me three novels, my younger brother made a large and beautiful card and a chocolate, my mother baked cake for me; my friends brought me chocolates, lots of love, pendants, scrolls and some even wrote for me (in the form of poems and proses). I am truly grateful for that.
But my sixteenth birthday didn't feel like it was supposed to. I didn't hype up, I wasn't excited for any gifts, my school day was exactly like any other, yadda yadda yadda.
The question here: What was missing? What was the problem?
While writing this, I found the answer.
October 1 is my birthday, and there is a very long story attached to it. Maybe, some day, I will post it here. But anyway, the point is that I was originally going to be born in the last days of September but my father said he greatly despised September and wanted me to have the same birthday month as his: October. Exactly 4 days after my birthday, comes my father's birthday. October 5.
Revision: a birthday marks another year that one has lived.
So, now I know why I couldn't feel this birthday of mine.
Apart from my birthdays, I would also get enlivened for the birthdays of others. My mother's, sister's, brother's and father's birthdays were as special to me as my own.
This enthusiasm for my own birthday lasted only till my fifteenth birthday.
I dreaded yesterday. For a month, I wished September to pass by quickly, and along with it, I wanted October 1 (my birthday) to pass by as well. My family brought me lovely things. In our family, we do not believe in materialistic love. It is about what truly matters. My sister brought me three novels, my younger brother made a large and beautiful card and a chocolate, my mother baked cake for me; my friends brought me chocolates, lots of love, pendants, scrolls and some even wrote for me (in the form of poems and proses). I am truly grateful for that.
But my sixteenth birthday didn't feel like it was supposed to. I didn't hype up, I wasn't excited for any gifts, my school day was exactly like any other, yadda yadda yadda.
The question here: What was missing? What was the problem?
While writing this, I found the answer.
October 1 is my birthday, and there is a very long story attached to it. Maybe, some day, I will post it here. But anyway, the point is that I was originally going to be born in the last days of September but my father said he greatly despised September and wanted me to have the same birthday month as his: October. Exactly 4 days after my birthday, comes my father's birthday. October 5.
Revision: a birthday marks another year that one has lived.
So, now I know why I couldn't feel this birthday of mine.
It is because as I grow a year older, my father does not.