I have a battered relationship with my birthday and not for the usual reasons that one struggles with a birthday in this youth obsessed culture. No, my birthday and I have circled one another since the beginning. It started with the shared birthday party with my sister. We are both December birthdays, hers in the beginning, mine toward the end and our parents, rightly so, decided in the early years that we should have one party. But here is the thing: the party was on her birthday because my birthday is......drummer-boy-roll-instead-of-happy-birthday.....the day after Christmas. That set the tone, really.
I get it. My birthday is the most inconvenient of times. Everyone is partied and presented out. Hey, how about one big present for both holidays? NO THANK YOU. Hey, how about we shop for your birthday present on your birthday to take advantage of all the Christmas sales? NO THANK YOU. Do you mind if your birthday present is wrapped in Christmas paper? YES, I DO
Then, came the divorce. As a teen, every single birthday was spent travelling from one part of the state to another to spend Christmas number two with my dad. Did me and my birthday need that extra bit 'o trauma? NO, NOT REALLY.
My birthday is actually pretty tough, now that I write and muse about it. Perhaps all these years, I have been looking for a pastel, inside the box type day. Maybe my birthday will take me to a different place. Maybe my birthday has just been trying to prepare me for letting go of old notions. It is possible my birthday has gone rogue.
I'm not saying we are there yet, but maybe there is some hope for me and my birthday.