BIRTHDAYS
I’m Writing For The Person Who Hates Birthdays
There used to be one or two, now the world has many of them
It is a simple rule in my house: you're not invited, you’re not going. But mum, I was invited. No. That's not how it works, young lady. Chichi’s mother had no business having you over at her house without informing me. But mum, it was a general invitation to the class. Doesnt make a difference. We’re neighbors, are we not? If she had wanted you over, it wouldn’t have skipped her memory to talk to your mother.
No, I will not have you go over there like you do not have food at home. And I will not speak on this again. You will not honor any invitation I'm not personally aware of, and I will not send you to anybody’s house without a gift. I wasn't told, so I didn't prepare any gifts.
Did you catch that? That was me and my mum. I was nine, almost ten when I didn't attend the neighborhood big birthday I had anticipated for two weeks. My mother is big on self-respect—something I hadn't quite understood then. My tears would not change her decision, and that was it. I didn't go to the birthday party, which was three houses away from mine.
At school, I got all the details of the fun I missed. Just for that day, I silently hated the thought of a birthday. It…
