I thought I wanted the day to be stormy, weather so blustery that any person would think twice about getting out of bed. Mother Nature somehow making how I felt as I went to sleep the night before captured for the rest of the world to see. The pain, heartache, the rawness of my eyes as I shut them tightly to hold back any more tears exposed to the masses drenching them like they had my shirt. My hands soaked through, I couldn’t breathe.
The sound of my phone going off woke me from another night of dreamless sleep. The message light blinking random green flashes. I looked at the screen and a video was waiting, balloons being let go in the air. A dozen purple and blue perfectly shaped balloons floating into the sky. The text was simple, “She’s waiting to catch these, jumping through the clouds”. My heart just broke into a million pieces because I started to realize I didn’t want today to be dark and grey, I needed it to be full of color, full of life.
I had always pictured celebrating today with cake and flowers. A clown that comes around doing silly animals that stretch the imagination of every child or wanna be child. My father pushing people out of the way with his camera so he can add to his already obnoxious collection of images. The grandmothers jockeying for who made the best cake, since there just had to be one vanilla and the other chocolate. Aunts and Uncles speculating on what silliness this brought out in me. (maybe payback for me having been the human pinata at one party!) The sounds of children running around, laughing the best part of it all. Brightly colored boxes, wrapped in ribbons and bows resting on the table waiting for anxious hands to hold their wonders.
Today is my daughter’s birthday and I want to celebrate it. Even if she can’t, even if I’m not sure how to go about it, this day needs to be about life. There will be 364 other days in which I can allow the other stuff to creep into my mind, my emotions; but it can’t be today!
How am I going to do it? The only idea I have is getting some Orange Hostess Cupcakes and putting a candle in the middle of one. Why those? My mother’s birthday is 3 days after mine and she was still in the hospital so my father brought those in for her to enjoy. They don’t taste like orange, and they don’t resemble those former “pastries”. But it is my way of remembering something in a manner that includes some family history in a positive way. It doesn’t need to be $8 a piece cupcakes, some lemon verbena blueberry creation; just love.
There are those who aren’t sure how to respond to this need, their emotions confused on what to say. That’s okay, I don’t expect anything from them anymore. I’m worried the ex just keeps her head down and tries to push it from her mind, but that concern needs to be another day. My mother asked what I was thinking and I couldn’t capture it, words completely failed me. Later I’ll force myself to post something on Facebook, my announcement to the world that today they should smile. Even though none of them speak a word of Japanese!
Hoppibasude no bagu! Otosan wa anata o misu!
“Happy Birthday Bug! Daddy misses you!”
Now it’s time to go figure out who carries those cupcakes!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Those Dishes Won’t Do Themselves.”