A decade ago these three words would probably be written in
bold, underlined and put up as signs everywhere a month before the actual D
day. I had even realized what a futile exercise it was for my friends to spend hours
buying me a gift with a paltry teenager pocket money allowance. So I would come
with a wishlist, cost it out and split it up for them as well. I got what I
wanted, they could stay in their budgets and everyone was happy. The midnight hours
calls were sacred. There was one time when our phone (the good old landline) died
on the eve of my birthday and it was going to be the year of doom, but that
night miraculously it rang at the midnight hour… oh yeah... Ring it did! You
would not dare to look me in the eye if you were a friend and didn't wish me on
my birthday!
Ten years later I look back and can’t help but notice life happen
between these years. I feel humbled and grounded. A dear friend who lost her
mom on the same date as my birthday when we were in school, remembers her mother fondly and never forgets to wish me every
year just as dearly; I see the
magnanimity in her gesture. The mother in me almost forgets her birthday in the
morning mad rush trying to pack lunches and getting the 2 boys out of the door;
I feel dwarfed in front of time. A few friends call up and ask very poignantly
about when I would visit next and I am unable to make up a good answer; I feel
helpless in front of distance. Thanks to the internet the messages, blessing
and love doesn't stop flowing from near and dear ones; I feel intimidated and
wonder if I have done enough to deserve it.
I wonder what changed in ten years that it doesn't feel
right to be the ‘Rockstar who jumps off the stage into the crowd’ on your
birthday and thinking instead about ‘how much more there is to do’, ‘how
miniscule I am in the grand scheme of things’ and ‘there goes another year’!
Mid-life crisis anyone?!
