I never think much of my birthdays.
To me, it’s just a day when I realize I’d have to add another year into my “Age” column in any form I have to fill in.
To me, it’s just some kind of a reminder that I should start trying to behave my age, which I somehow manage to fail constantly. And that’s the fact, mind you.
To me, it’s just a day when in the morning mom and dad would give me kisses on my forehead and cheeks (which I haven’t got for my last 5 birthdays since I started to work and no longer have mid-year holidays like when I was still in college), and wishing me joy and happiness for many a year to come.
To me, it’s just a day (other than occasionally on Christmases) when my brothers and sisters would give me presents.
To me, it’s just a day when my friends would shake my hand, wish me happy birthday, and sing silly song over the phone or write funny SMSes.
So, I think, when I turn 28 tomorrow, things wouldn’t feel much different.
I’m just not into birthdays anymore.
June 16, 2004
I was brought back to those years back in my hometown when watching Netherlands vs. Germany’s football match earlier this morning.
To those nights I spent with some of my brothers and sisters in front of the TV, focusing on the match and occasionally sipping our coffee, groaning over some silly maneuvers and screaming in joy whenever our favorite player or team scored, shouting furiously whenever our favorite player was fouled by the opponent or when the referee made stupid judgments (often based on our subjective judgments, though).
Those are the days when I was still a teenager. When dad used to ride me to school on his motorcycle and when I used to go home on foot with some friends, or mostly alone as not many of my friends lived in the same neighborhood.
When my mom used to spend the afternoon with me feeding our vast numbers of chicken.
When one of my brothers used to take me to Warung Susu Segar dan Roti Bakar Alun-alun Proliman on weekends simply to enjoy the night fresh air while sitting on the mattress and enjoying some ice chocolate and toast.
When my sisters used to take me to our monthly shopping to Solo, and enjoying some meatballs before going home.
When I used to play “George & Timmy” with my dog in the backyard after school; I’d lay on the grass with my dog beside me, pretending to be George on Kirrin Island.
That was… years ago! And I just realized how I miss all that!
Now…
I don’t think I could ask dad to give me a ride to school every morning anymore (for I’m no longer in school, obviously). I don’t think I could spend the afternoon with my mom, chatting while feeding the chickens anymore (we no longer keep chickens). I don’t think I could ask my brother for a night stroll anymore (he’s married and live in other part of the city). I don’t think I could go with my sisters for the monthly shopping anymore (cause she now lives in East Java… Ever imagine a cross-provincial monthly shopping?). I don’t think I could lay on the grass together with my dog in the backyard pretending to be George Kirrin anymore (especially when I no longer have dog. There is no such thing as George Kirrin without Timmy, no? She would just commit suicide, I reckon. Or, simply cease to exist… Plus, we don’t have backyard anymore…)