B Day
This day. This year. It has no thrill. No some kind of expectation. Excitement like in years before. Nope.
Flat. Plain. Instead, under pressure. Mentally exhausted. Fatigue.
Yeah yeah yeah. And it’s the same day like yesterday rite? Like tomorrow. Like the other ordinary days. I found myself almost forgot of this day. The one that everyone thinks it was a special day. Gee, I lost the sparks of that day. Really. Haha. T_T’
In fact, the concept that claims "This day is your special day" overwhelmed me. Perhaps I should wear nice or new or fancy or my favorite clothes. Little make up to freshen my look (it usually would fade away along my way to campus with the orange 213 bus; dust and smoke plus your own sweat could become your next additional foundation). I should have a hair-do. You know, at least making it curled in.
Rather looked like a princess of the day, I wore my shabby white polo (Eki says it is a "buluk" polo, while I don’t see it that way). My hair kinda messy (like usual). Curling out because I didn’t use hair dryer and brush to dry out my hair. The wind, blown from the window of 213 bus, was doing the drying job. And I got pouches in my eyes. Slept not well. Wept too much.
I didn’t blow any candles like people often do on that day. Gifts or presents or surprises? Nevermind lah. Special dinner with family? We’re not accustomed with that. Such a careless attitude for so-called special day. Maybe, that’s the reason why I rarely remember others’ special days. I often congratulate them late anyway. And I really really seldom initiate in giving presents to someone else. Hehe.
That day, I had a duty to do a border moulding activity (one of procedure in making a full removable denture). It did not end up well. After about five hours, I gave up. It was 3 pm and I almost made my patient skipped her sholat time. Terribly, I had made her skipped her lunch. Sigh.
So, people. You say that day is my special day. Hey, Birthday Girl, you’re supposed to be happy, cheerful. But, somehow I found myself hardly to smile on that day. In fact, I was easily to cry. Oh, I forget to mention that I got washed down by the heavy rain when I was going my way back home. As if the sky told me this: "Nevermind, you can cry. It’s OK. I know what you feel. I cry also. Don’t hold back your tears". As if.
And then I consider this issue. Why do people call birthday as a special day? Why do they celebrate it? What makes it more special than the other days? Why do everyone celebrate the increasing number of their ages while the span of their lives in this world are actually decreasing? We become closer to death, don’t we? I know I’ve been overthinking. But, let us think, what birthday really means to us. Another joy? For what? Gifts? Greetings? Cakes? Or it actually means nothing to us. And I’m wondering, why God let the culture of celebrating birthday happens from whensoever until now.
Back to my house, my little brother rushed out from the door, welcomed me, shouting with his silly smile: "Hepi bday cici!". I looked again at all the birthday messages from my relatives, besties. From those whom I never think they would remember my birthday. From those whom I don’t even know when their birthdays are. Remembering those who phoned, telling me happy birthday. Even one of my patients congratulated me by phone. I saw my friendster and facebook filled with the same comments. Short, simple, fancy. From those whom I miss their presence. From those who greet me late enough (it’s OK, I do it more often to other people). Hugs and kisses from my 2004 clinic friends. Oh, they’re looked more joyful than me, I guess. My other young brother also greet me and oh, he gave me the second gift on this birthday. Small green turtle key holder with a bell on it. He got it from his friend and he simply thought that a birthday person should have a gift. So, he gave it to me. Isn’t that sweet? 
I remember mom making me the Long Live Noodles for my lunch at campus. Chinese myth says that we should eat noodle on our birthday so that our life will be as long as the noodle we eat. Yeah rite :).
Wait a minute. I imagine, how does it feel when nobody remembers your birthday? Silent from the greetings. Quite awful and sad, isn’t it? So, I count it as a huge blessing for me. One greeting shows that someone cares for you. And every birthday wishes? How lucky I am, knowing that many people wishing and praying all the blessings from God to be given to me. Thanks to God. Thanks to you!
And then I looked to Him. My tears hadn’t stopped. I was still worrying something else. My mind was still burned out. And I was dying to be calm. But silently, He talked to me. Look at those blessings, Child. Look at me, Child. He who had made me in my mom’s womb. Created me. Letting me came into this world. The One who has chosen me. Saving me graciously. Comforts me. Leading me step by step. From failure to glory. From fall to victory. Transforms me into Christlikeness (then I asked Him: Have I become more and more like Your Son?). The One who always takes care of me. The One who loves to change my birthday candle cake every year. Every birthday.
So this is what my birthday means to me. It’s not the gifts, the party, dinner or cakes. It’s Him and Him alone. Who has shown countless blessings and care from other people. Who Himself has been doing an amazing job in taking care of me. Since I was only a zygot. Until it became a 22 years-old-(almost or already?) woman.
Dear readers. Rejoice your birthday and others birthday. It is special. Perhaps God takes an advantage in this culture. He lets us to have special days. Just to be thankful for what He has done years by years. Making us also consider: Have we become more and more like Him? Have we loved Him more and more than before?
Have we grown up yet?
Happy birthday to me. 
happy birthday enyeeez:)
Posted September 1, 2008, 7:58 am