Memories of Birthdays Past

First thought today: Is it Thursday already?

Quickly followed by: Why are the days just breezing by? Where are they off to?

Then I realized. They must be in a hurry to get to my 26th birthday.

If I had a panic button, I'd press it now. Not because I'm worried about getting older, but because I have no idea how I'm going to celebrate this birthday. My best friends have left Beijing, my family is 1800 miles away, and some other special people are even thrice further.

I am scared that this might rival that birthday I spent in an overnight train to Milan, alone. God, please, I hope not. Well, at least I have a home in Beijing; I can cook spaghetti and buy some fried chicken and celebrate... even if I'm by myself. So maybe it won't be that bad. Sad, but not that bad.

Last month, I spent almost three weeks on vacation in the US and thought that would be enough to make this birthday special. An advanced birthday gift, I told myself. I guess I should have known better; I should have known that despite the wonderful trip I had, I still would like to do something to commemorate November 3rd.

It would be easy to round up people and throw a party; but I've always held birthdays in high regard, and it just wouldn't feel special if I celebrate it just for the sake of having warm bodies around me as I turn a year older.

So I twirl the date round and round in my head, and I dream of past birthdays spent with loved ones... old friends, my crazy family.

My parents would be up early to go to the market and pick up ingredients for the day's feast. The kitchen would be a mess and the smell of garlic prawns and inihaw na liempo would be wafting through the house, signalling that amazingly delicious food will soon be served.

The coolers are soon filled with ice to chill the beer, and set out by the garage, almost as a welcome to the guests. Chairs and tables would be arranged, and 'reinforcement' a.k.a. rented monoblocs would be arriving by this time, if deemed necessary. My brother would tinker with the audio and visuals -- speakers, projectors, amplifiers, what have you; because no party is ever complete without good music -- and bad music at that, courtesy of the videoke! And I would wake up relatively late to all this chaos (a benefit of being the balikbayan, haha), jump in the shower and soon join in the boring preparations fun.

The party starts when you hear Buster, our smelly but dear German Shepherd, bark at the first few guests approaching the gate. Then it's all good times from there. Stories, laughter, booze, more stories, singing, dancing, getting drunk, then drunken stories. In the middle of it all, I would probably be asked to rush to the supermarket to buy more ice, more beer, or more pulutan, and I would gladly oblige since it's my excuse to start picking my friends up from their houses (kayo yan songers! spoiled! haha). Towards the end (normally past midnight), we would start bringing out the coffee and batchoy so people can have something warm in their stomachs and make sure they are sober enough to find their way home.

Often during get-togethers like these, people would be doing their their own stuff: the adults in the garage downing the alcohol (special mention: Tita Cynthia!), the kids playing inside the house or watching cartoons, me entertaining my friends, my brother enjoying his Red Horse and looking judgmental at all the SMB drinkers (haha), my sister in a corner with her phone, texting, oblivious to everything (haha joke lang Tata). But despite that, everyone partakes in an atmosphere that is festive and happy, because the fact they we're all together is the most important of all.

*moment of silence*

This is the point where I would be sighing, swearing that I miss home so much so that I am tempted to go to the PAL website and book a ticket no matter how expensive it is. But no. No complaining.

I had considered just letting the day pass, shelve it together with the rest of those ordinary days of the year, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The day I disregard my birthday is the day I stop loving life -- and I'm not even thinking of going there.

No worries. Come November 3rd, I'll be happy with my spaghetti and fried chicken, and memories of birthdays past... and more importantly, dreams of birthdays to come. :)