August 2008, Cuba.
At the pig roast family gathering this was my "birthday" cake and they sang Happy Birthday and everything. Very sweet.
But the realist, intellectual, can't-believe-someone-would-do-something-for-me joy-kill in me kept saying to my Love, "But it's not my birthday. Do they know my birthday is in March? Why do I have a cake and all?"
He never gave me a complete answer, which I took to mean: Just shut up and go with it.
So I did. And if I stopped trying to think too hard, I might realize that it was probably a way of welcoming me to the family, and in that sense, it was a kind of birthday. I felt special and included and that's most likely "why."
Of course I also felt I was now a member of the family by the way they kept asking when we were going to start having babies, but whatever.
I think I may make this my theme for the year.
Just shut up and go with it.
Comments