The Forgotten birthday
Today is my birthday.
I was so excited yesterday that I hardly slept. So many thoughts and dreams were running though my head. People smiling, the cards, maybe some presents and I would be in the centre. All those who I love around me. And they would smile and sing Happy Birthday.
The longing for the day to come grew as the night moved on till dawn. The Sun began to make its way across the winter sky. Its weak rays warming the crisp earth beneath.
The waiting had gone on long enough.
I jumped up and raced off to find someone, anyone, to share my day with me. Everywhere people were waking, smiling, laughing and joking, but they seemed not to notice me.
One lady was very cross – something about a turkey that was still frozen. I think that made her forget about my birthday.
There were some very busy mothers, running around, without a second to spare. While the fathers slept on the sofa. The mothers told me that they might have some time later… but they just had too do this, that and the other….. first.
Some people were all alone. I wanted to share the day with them, I wanted them to share my birthday. But they didn’t seem to hear me ask.
Some people went to church, but they seemed in a hurry to get home again, their duty done.
People sang strange songs. About boats and bells, snowman and reindeer, a man called Wenceslas and another called Santa Claus.
But no one sang me happy birthday.
They bought presents but they didn’t know who they were for.
They sent cards, but they weren’t for me.
People seemed to eat too much, but not know what they were celebrating.
There were cakes but no candles.
The day wore on and I was alone. I walked through the street and saw cosy scenes behind the windows. Someone saw me through the frosty glass but they didn’t invite me in.
And so day passed into evening and I was alone.
Suddenly the clouds parted and the night was clear.
I saw my father light the candles in the sky, like he did all those years ago.
I heard the animals from far and wide call out my name, the wind singing its birthday song to me.
My loneliness receded.
As long as my father is, someone will remember the day I was born.
It will be written on the sky for all to see who have eyes to see. It will be spoken on the wind for all to hear who have ears to hear.
But my heart is still heavy. Laden with grief, like on the last day, when I bore their sorrows and sufferings.
It was meant to be my day. A day to remember me and my birth.
But I wanted more, well more and less.
More than remembrance, more than presents and feasts, songs and cards. I wanted to be with my people, my friends, my most beloved ones.
You think they would remember when I was born. Babies don’t get born in stables every day. I’ll put in on the calendar for next year. 25th December – MY BIRTHDAY!
Then maybe they’ll remember…