Three hours later, my dad tiptoed into my room to grab the heater; my sister, however, stayed in my room, jumping on my bed, singing "Happy Birthday". I couldn't help but smile. Her jokes, which would have turned me off any other day, were the incessant reminders that I wasn't forgotten. On a day this special, my name in anyone's lips sounded beautiful.
I got up, went to the bathroom, and well, brushed my teeth. I could see nothing different in the mirror. There still stood the same pale girl with wavy tresses, thick eyebrows, and the gray circles beneath her maple syrupy eyes. Nothing had changed.
As I walked downstairs, I couldn't help but feel a rush of nervousness. As inane as this might sound, but I was stepping downstairs as a 17 year old for the first time in my life. It felt kind of...awkward...kind of sad. I turned the corner, and was greeted by a set table (my favorite Panera bread bagels with Hazelnut cream cheese), three neatly packed gift bags, the pink tissue papers clouding above, and a family who immediately began to sing and cheer. I don't think my smile had ever been this big before. I tried to act inferior, and slid into my mom and dad's arm. My brother took pictures..and gosh was that the most truest smiles I had ever seen.
I carefully unwrapped every present and they were all just perfect. Everything meant something to me. Every card was a scribble of familiar handwritings...handwritings I could never forget.
The day went by pretty quickly. I went to the mall with my family...on a giant shopping spree. I felt like the center of attention as I picked out cute cardigans, shoes, and tops. Anything you want jaan, my dad had said.
I got calls from three of my best friends in the world. Best friends I haven't seen in forever. I suck at long distance anythings. It felt good to relive the old times.
And now...now it's all over. I don't know if it's only me, but I feel like birthdays are the perfect times of years. Times where I am happy, times when my family seems to love me, times when my past reconnects. I don't know why that is? Maybe, it's because every birthday is just a step closer to death. It's a step closer to a world you're about to leave. But maybe. Just maybe, a birthday is a day to celebrate and thank. A day to thank God that He didn't take us (or me, or you) away like He took away thousands of kids this year. A day to thank God that we didn't have to face rape, or abuse, or neglect. That we're still happy to be alive.
I love birthdays with all my heart.