I've got this thing for the number 15. It seems like big things, bad and good, happen for me on the 15th. I broke up with my long-term boyfriend on a 15th (of February. I'm a jerk), I moved into my first apartment on a 15th, passed the test that gave me my current job on a 15th and my anniversary with TB is on the 15th. I remember thinking to myself last year that 2015 was going to be insane. It just had to be. Superstition was on my side. I mean, 2014 had been an effing rollercoaster ride. More travel in one year than I’d done in my whole life, landing a job I wanted, cool responsibilities at work, and, of course, more loss than I could fathom.
Imagine my surprise, then, that 2015 has been one long flatline of mostly even-keeled quiet. No travel outside the country, no big changes on the job front, just a lot of keeping my head above water and trying to go through the motions of everyday normal. Whoo!!
I had wondered if I should even do anything for my birthday – having a birthday on a holiday always leaves the question of a party up in the air – but once I heard my best pal Jax was in town for the first time in probably 7 years I knew I had to do something.
|Sparkler fights: fun and inadvisable|
Two years ago my birthday was, by far, the best party I’d ever thrown. 30-40 people showed up, there was chaos and trays of drinks set on fire and our brand new dog was scared shitless (just kidding, she’s never shitless) by the revelers and their propensity toward picking her up like a baby.
This year’s fete was a lot smaller- a more manageable 15-20 people- and a lot less work. We decided to have a barbecue, get some beer and then let off some fireworks and sparklers in the backyard.
|Proof. (pun cheerfully intended)|
Confession: TB barbecued, bought the beer and then let off fireworks. I put on a tshirt and made jello shots.
It was actually pretty great. I had two friends from miles away come out, at one point there were three dogs in my house – two pugs and a boston terrier – so you know I was into that, and everyone seemed to have fun. We let off the fireworks in our (very close to power lines, very urban) backyard and didn’t know we had an audience until tiny voices began chanting “We want fireworks! We want fireworks!” and we realized there was a trio of pint-sized piros watching from our neighbour’s balcony. So, you know, at least they weren’t going to rat us out to Bylaw.
|Pepper pug is as much fun as she looks|
People went their separate ways around 9:30 or so (my birthday fell on a Wednesday this year so the bureaucrats turned into pumpkins) and then we headed down to watch the professionals do their explody colour magic. We ended the night with Jax, TB, my sister and I playing “Cards Against Humanity” where I found a brand new favourite card!
And yeah, I missed her. I missed her when my dad’s name was the only one written on my card, and when her alto voice didn’t match his bass singing me happy birthday over the phone. I missed her wearing her traditional red and white outfit (complete with socks) and I missed the ease with which she’d pick out a great birthday gift (my dad, on the other hand kept wringing his hands until he panicked and bought some random chez lounge. My sister set him straight and I got an awesome zero gravity chair for the backyard instead.) This will be the first year of my life without her and the first birthday of mine she’s ever missed. But, like mother’s day and easter before it, my birthday was still good. Different, and maybe more reflective, but still good.
I remember a moment, when we were outside and the fireworks were blasting and we were shrieking and drinking and laughing and I just thought “I am happy.” It seems impossible that I’d get to that point again, and it was fleeting, but it was there. It is possible. Happy Birthday to me.