That's Life: Birthday Memories
 |
Some of my friends claim they are too old to "celebrate" their birthdays. I think being able to live independently is enough reason to celebrate.
With each passing year, however, I grow more and more nostalgic about my birthday. I think of my dear mother, who never failed to give me exactly what I wanted for a gift on my birthday, even when she and father were experiencing financial difficulties.
One year, when I came home from elementary school at lunchtime, I found a small package on the kitchen table next to my favorite sandwich: open grilled cheese with a tomato slice on top.
"Open it," Mother said, gesturing to the package. "It's for you." I was delighted when I found in that package a white pen and pencil set I had admired a couple weeks earlier in the Five and Ten Cent store.
Since my older sister, Gloria, had been born on Feb. 28, we always shared a birthday cake as youngsters. Gloria was the first to blow out the candles on our birthday cake. Then Mother would remove a few of those candles and relight the remainder for me to blow out.
We did not mind having one cake between us; we were used to sharing. Gloria, our sister Claire and I shared pieces of pizza, bags of gumdrops, a single pillow upon which we rested our heads as we sprawled out on the living room floor listening to New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia read the Sunday "funny papers" over the radio.
In our bedroom, we shared a clothes closet, a bureau and a bed. At night, I enjoyed talking and giggling with my sisters until I surrendered to sleep. Sometimes, Mother would call out from the living room, "That's enough girls. Go to sleep."
Being the baby in the family, I found it comforting to have my "big sisters" beside me in a bedroom engulfed in the darkness I found frightening.
My sisters and I remained close when we grew older, and after Claire and I married our sweethearts and Gloria moved into an apartment, we would gather at my parents' home to celebrate our birthdays. Gloria and I continued sharing a birthday cake on the weekend nearest to both our birthdays.
Once my parents died, that custom was abandoned, as often happens when mothers and fathers – the glue that hold a family closely bound – are gone.
But we were together again the year Gloria reached a "milestone" birthday, when her nieces and nephew hosted a party in a banquet hall in her honor.
As the party was drawing to an end, everyone rose and started singing "Happy Birthday to You." I was puzzled as we had already sung the tune to Gloria when a waiter had brought out her birthday cake.
But I sang along until I noticed a cousin laughing and pointing behind me. "Phyllis, look behind you," she said, and I turned and saw my son Christopher carrying a cake as he headed toward me. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHYLLIS" was written in creamy script on the cake.
I treasure all the memories of the birthday celebrations my big sister and I shared. But I know if we let ourselves linger too long in the past, the pleasures the present offers may slip by unnoticed.
So on my birthday this year, I prayed for those who made my past birthdays memorable, and then celebrated with friends and family members who, through their generosity and thoughtfulness, made me feel loved and special.
