Birthdays Stir Things Up

Birthdays stir things up.  The child anticipates, the adult dreads.  The child yearns to increase his number, telling everyone in the months preceding the fifth birthday – I am four and three quarters!  Then, the years pile onto the number, like ants on a log, stubble on a chin, dandelions in a summer lawn.  Folks start to say “it’s just another day”; “I don’t celebrate anymore”; “Ach, who needs em?” “Nothing special”.

A very little girl with soft formed curls stands on a chair in an pale organdy dress, a bow clamped on the side of her head as big as a bird in flight.  A few tanned children sit around the table looking up at her.  A basket of flowers, its handle tall and rounded.  Her uncle helps her to cut the cake, his hand on the knife over hers.  Who took the picture?  Where were her parents? He seemed so in charge.  Birthdays stir things up.  

A pre-teen with budding breasts in a sailor shirt;  a lanky teen with bad skin, shorn hair and a guarded smile;  a young woman with flashy, hanging earrings and a smile made brighter by her first legal drink, holds up a gift of a used shirt and a half filled bottle of Canoe at the Seaweed tavern.  Birthdays stir things up.

A navy blue tube top, and the young Mother wears an annoyed (or is it sad, resigned?) smile on her face directed at the picture taker.  She holds up a chocolate chip cookie, as big as a pizza pie and frosted with her name, next to her bony neck.  Her pre-teen daughter looks on, serious.

Denim cut-offs and braless, she poses with a Burger King crown on her head, happy with her newly pierced ears at age thirty.  She’d been inspired by Barbara Streisand in a Star is Born.  The perm came shortly after, but it turned out more like Harpo Marx.  Birthdays stir things up.

The sisters had a cake; she’d been dropped off at the local airport by a friend in his private plane; he’d taken her to Hyannis for the weekend.  She looked tanned and happy as she cut the cake, but her son leaned in at her elbow, looking up at her with an awful face; she’d gone away for the weekend and left him behind.  Birthdays stir things up.

A Hostess  twinkie with a single candle and a single friend.  She yearned for her children.  

Three small boys, strangers to her, entered the small shop where she worked and announced “we have a message for you”, then lined up and sang Happy Birthday.  Wonderful!

A landmark dinner with her daughter and best friends. Laughter and friendship and love, tucked into one of those very intricate parts of brain and heart, encapsulated for retrieval when needed.

Another landmark: water sculptures along the Hudson with family; the memorable dinner; the thrill of seeing all those loved faces around the table; the new baby in her pink sunsuit chewing on a chunk of bread.

A trip to Brooklyn, a huge surprise, her son hiding in the corner of the living room, all the way from Tennessee.  Birthdays stir things up.  

Strangford Loch, Ireland.  The chef came out in checkered pants and big puffy chef’s hat and led a three cheers salute for the very big landmark day.  Hip Hip Hooray! 

Harmonica serenade, singing phone messages, attempted whistling message, unexpected flowers delivered, cards, small messages of love and joy.  A day of ease, painting, Priscilla Queen of the Desert,   A quiet dinner with a quiet man…Birthdays stir things up.