birthdays:

It's a familiar thing; the sweet scent of your favorite strawberry cream cake, the awkwardness of waiting for the singing to end, the blowing of candles, and making your once-in-a-year wish.  

Of course, you don’t remember them all, not in order at least– the things you wish for. But, you might recall the ones that cling to your memory, ones you craved endlessly.

Like the completely useless huge stuffed animal, you couldn’t dream of not having for your 6th birthday. How heart-wrenching it was to sit in the center of opened presents and torn wrapping paper, not seeing its glittery yet soft ears peering from the wrapping paper. 

Or the year you turned 16, and you watched your best friend slip away. And even then, all you wanted was for him to be happy. It was the year you finally realized that birthdays aren't always filled with laughter, confetti, and frosting on your cheeks. Growing up means heavier weights to carry. 

Then there was the year you fell in love– then fell out.  Your body curled under the sheets of the bed, which once offered you comfort and security. Presently, it holds the shape of an empty figure; emitting piercing breaths of cold. Reaching over to what once was usually a source of warmth, now only feels like an arrow to the heart. Wishes didn’t seem trustworthy anymore, and at that time, nothing would change your mind. 

This year though, everything felt somewhat normal. I had the cake, the present, and the awkward feeling of standing around while my friends and family sang “Happy Birthday”.  But when it was time to make my wish– nothing. Nothing sparked in my mind, no yearning, no longing, no aching for anything I didn’t have.

Because you were there, right in front of me; asking me to make a wish.