I never understood those who said birthdays grew less exciting with age. After all, this is your special day! This is the day you first felt air on your skin, the first day you saw light, the first day the world got a good look at you. How could a day so significant turn into "just any other day"?
Last night, my mom, brother, and I went to Olive Garden for my birthday. My mom constantly reminded the family about Olive Garden, which means she's been craving its food for months. If not for her, I would have rejected that restaurant and all of its cardboard-like breadsticks.
We were paying the bill on one of those tablets that all modern restaurants have (I still don't trust their flashy pay-to-play games) when my mom looked up at our waiter. "You know, it's actually my daughter's birthday," she said.
My mom got exactly what she was hinting for. Jason the waiter plus two of his coworkers brought out a slice of chocolate cake. I looked at the pink candle burning into my sockets, confused about when to blow it out. I can't tell you when I last blew out candles for my birthday, because it was never a tradition in my family. Is this when I'm supposed to blow it out? I thought. No, that's not right. I do that after the singing.
And even the singing was abnormal for me. The last time a group of people sang Happy Birthday for me happened the last time I threw a party, which was in elementary school. Who could've guessed this year my brother and three strangers would be singing it? Ironically, the only person who sang it for me every year prior was too busy taking photos. Moms have a tendency to take photos of everything.
Jason said to enjoy the rest of the night. He shook all our hands and we drove home with the cake soon after. I returned to my spot on the living room couch like any other night, but feeling very satisfied. I felt special. I deserved that free slice of cake. I deserved to hear that birthday song. And the three other people celebrating their birthday at Olive Garden deserved it, too.
Yes, I heard Happy Birthday four times that night. Only one of those times were directed to me. I wasn't disappointed. It's not like we were the only family who decided to eat at Olive Garden for a birthday. It didn't detract from my experience. But it put a lot of things in perspective.
August 3rd is the birthday of a lot people I know: Martha Stewart, Sean Fujiyoshi, Kina Grannis, my Spanish teacher during my freshman year. Yesterday, Good Mythical Morning uploaded their third episode of Season 10. Yesterday, Jake Roper opened the merchandise box he had been developing for the past two years. Yesterday, I filled up my seventeenth journal. A whole day's worth of important things happened and--oh yeah, it was also my birthday. When did that become meaningless?
Sure, it's a normal day and these birthday traditions are getting a little repetitive. But it's much more interesting knowing that while you're scraping cake crumbs off your plate at midnight, there's someone across the world jumping out of bed because they're excited for their birthday. Your birthday is the same day a couple gets married, someone types the last word of their book, another baby is born. A historic event occurred the same day you were born. It's a pretty cool coincidence.
In a single day, you entered this world, and life went on. And if that isn't special, I don't know what is.
Last night, my mom, brother, and I went to Olive Garden for my birthday. My mom constantly reminded the family about Olive Garden, which means she's been craving its food for months. If not for her, I would have rejected that restaurant and all of its cardboard-like breadsticks.
We were paying the bill on one of those tablets that all modern restaurants have (I still don't trust their flashy pay-to-play games) when my mom looked up at our waiter. "You know, it's actually my daughter's birthday," she said.
My mom got exactly what she was hinting for. Jason the waiter plus two of his coworkers brought out a slice of chocolate cake. I looked at the pink candle burning into my sockets, confused about when to blow it out. I can't tell you when I last blew out candles for my birthday, because it was never a tradition in my family. Is this when I'm supposed to blow it out? I thought. No, that's not right. I do that after the singing.
And even the singing was abnormal for me. The last time a group of people sang Happy Birthday for me happened the last time I threw a party, which was in elementary school. Who could've guessed this year my brother and three strangers would be singing it? Ironically, the only person who sang it for me every year prior was too busy taking photos. Moms have a tendency to take photos of everything.
Jason said to enjoy the rest of the night. He shook all our hands and we drove home with the cake soon after. I returned to my spot on the living room couch like any other night, but feeling very satisfied. I felt special. I deserved that free slice of cake. I deserved to hear that birthday song. And the three other people celebrating their birthday at Olive Garden deserved it, too.
Yes, I heard Happy Birthday four times that night. Only one of those times were directed to me. I wasn't disappointed. It's not like we were the only family who decided to eat at Olive Garden for a birthday. It didn't detract from my experience. But it put a lot of things in perspective.
August 3rd is the birthday of a lot people I know: Martha Stewart, Sean Fujiyoshi, Kina Grannis, my Spanish teacher during my freshman year. Yesterday, Good Mythical Morning uploaded their third episode of Season 10. Yesterday, Jake Roper opened the merchandise box he had been developing for the past two years. Yesterday, I filled up my seventeenth journal. A whole day's worth of important things happened and--oh yeah, it was also my birthday. When did that become meaningless?
Sure, it's a normal day and these birthday traditions are getting a little repetitive. But it's much more interesting knowing that while you're scraping cake crumbs off your plate at midnight, there's someone across the world jumping out of bed because they're excited for their birthday. Your birthday is the same day a couple gets married, someone types the last word of their book, another baby is born. A historic event occurred the same day you were born. It's a pretty cool coincidence.
In a single day, you entered this world, and life went on. And if that isn't special, I don't know what is.