The girl who is afraid of birthdays
a novel of circulation from the perspective of the mirror on the wall
I have been here, in the same house, on the same wall, twenty years before you were born. Your aunt and uncle brought me here right after your grandfather purchased this city house in preparation for your mother’s generation to study in the capital city. Your mother was about the same age as you are now, with a similar face yet rounder frame, only with less sass than you have.
Three generations of this family stared in front of me to consult their faces at different stages of their lives, I thought I have seen it all. Then, just a month ago, you came and I met you for the first time. Ania is what they call you.
You come to greet me several times a day, but you do not really see me, do you Ania? You stand in front of me to look at yourself, sometimes with so much talcum powder of the baby variety on your face that makes you look like a tiny geisha. Sometimes, you sit right below me, squatting on the floor with your toys or with your paper and pens to draw whatever your wild imagination can conjure.
One Sunday morning was a little different. You did not sound like the usual spirited and spunky girl that you are. So, I gave it a little bit more effort to eavesdrop to the chatter between your grandmother (Lola) and your mother (Mama). I heard talks about their birthdays coming up and what preparations to be had, including details such as, who to invite, what to cook, and how to decorate the place among other things.
Then, all of a sudden, I heard you sob. As expected, your elders asked you what was on your mind. At first they thought you fought with your brother and cousin again, the two boys whom you always fought with if they do not obey your every whim. In between sobs I heard you say, “If you both are having your birthdays soon, it means you are getting older by one year. When birthdays come, people get older and older! And, I do not want you to get older!”
I saw your mother looked at your grandmother knowingly and with great effort containing their laughter because what you said was indeed funny. But the look on their faces was also an acknowledgment that there was a lot of truth in what you said too. Indeed, there was a lot of wisdom in it. I never looked at you like the same innocent child I thought you were after that day.
Curious to read more?
🐶 I write it-narratives from the perspectives of my dog (or any inanimate objects) and vignettes to practice mindfulness.
I hope you are feeling better today, Ania. 🤗 I know you love stories about things you said and did when you were little so I thought to write this for you today.
I love this form of writing Jen, what a great idea. I felt like I was right there, in that moment as you were sharing it 💜
I love that title, it's intriguing but nonetheless something we can all relate to