Way back when, before the axis of my life shifted so abruptly, my birthdays were loud, colorful, rowdy, and full. Full of people, food, music, laughter, presents, and hugs. Because I was born as summer was dying, there was usually still enough heat and humidity left in Iowa to celebrate by throwing a grand pool party. (My mom always knew how to throw the best pool parties.) When I was really little, the attendees were mostly my parents' friends. Fun and wild, they'd park their cars in the street and flip-flop their way up our drive, around the side of the house, and through the back gate leading to our little oasis - the Wickey Family's tiny piece of heaven on earth. Truth be told, I loved those people. Always smiling, always laughing, they made my young life exciting. When my parents' friends were around, the air buzzed - literally pulsed - with excitement.
After my dad died, however, most of my parents' friends stopped coming around. Now, I'm not going to start blaming anyone or pointing fingers. I'm sure they were probably uncomfortable around Mom and I right after Dad passed, and maybe that was why they drifted away. Whatever the reason, the people that I used to see almost every day up until I turned fourteen suddenly vanished.
But that was okay. By then I had my own group of friends - both from high school and softball - and a better group of girls you'd be hard pressed to find. In fact, when my dad died, they were my lifeline. The only people who could really make me forget the pain of losing not only my dad, but my life as I'd known it. Because after my dad died, things got dark. I don't think my friends back then knew how much they helped, or even suspected how wrong things were in my life, but they were all - every single one of them - lifesavers to me. We celebrated our birthdays together, usually circled around a phone, spooning cookie dough shamelessly into our mouths and laughing big belly laughs while making prank phone calls to complete strangers. (Poor, poor Phu Van.)
Today is my birthday. There's no pool party waiting for me. No loud and rambunctious friends to celebrate with, for all of my lifesavers have gone on their separate ways. My family - what's left of it - are far away, on the other side of the country. My parents' friends have evaporated as completely as the water has in our old pool. (From what I hear it's now nothing but a dilapidated concrete hole in the ground.)
I'm not writing this post to invoke sympathy. I'm writing this post for myself. To honor birthdays past and to remember that joy and celebration can come in a multitude of ways. Whether it's twenty people laughing and lounging around a pool or a group of girls snacking on cookie dough, sharing jokes, and making - gasp - a few prank phone calls, there's no right or wrong way to celebrate a birthday.
It's whatever fits.
Tonight will be a quiet night. Chris and I will settle down for the evening like we always do - read a book, watch a movie, get lost in an episode of Supernatural. And then tomorrow we'll wake early, drive up into the mountains, and hike to our hearts' content. I'll take in the views, feel his hand in mine, and appreciate where I am in my life.
And that, just that, will be enough.
_______________________
"A birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun. Enjoy the trip."
-- Author Unknown
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