A Birthday To Remember

We met at a local Indian restaurant for dinner, my family, my siblings, my sibling like cousin and their families. As thirteen of us ordered more than enough to go around, the conversation flowed. Nieces shared college experiences, my twins offered up high school experiences, my youngest regaled us oldies with her Gen Alpha terms. I sat in the midst of it all, basking in the joy of being the nerve center for the day.

We came home, killed time and as the clock counted down to midnight, I got to be Cinderella. I sat in the middle, bags of gifts around me, a cake that I loved from a place I really liked, candles, balloons and most of all, people who carved the time and effort to be with me as I celebrated five decades of life. I opened each card, read each note and squealed over each thoughtful gift. I went to bed that night feeling very loved and cherished.

The wishes poured in all through the next day, in text messages, voice notes, social media posts and, kids who hugged me each time they saw me. We cooked together, ate together and made plans for the evening. I napped while the rest of the family set up decorations, picked up cake and made arrangements to receive friends who promised to show up for me.

The evening was a blustery, biting cold. The interiors of the restaurant warm and cozy. Forty of us crowded in a lovely room with murals from Madras. We ate comfort foods from my childhood – onion samosas, thayir vadai, poori masal and other nostalgia evoking delicacies. I hugged everyone who came, we played games, I earnestly accepted wishes and gifts, took a million pictures and cut a cake as I sang Happy birthday to me along with the others.

It was as perfect as a day I curated for myself can be. As the night fell, we cleaned up and went home. I opened the sarees, the jewelry, the gift cards and the books, oh, the books. I made piles, folded away gift bags and as the clock stuck midnight, slipped into my comfy pajamas back to my non glamorous self, a year older, a year happier.

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