In about eight hours, something different will happen.
Not completely different, just different.
For the first time in 20 years, I’ll be alone on my birthday. I have a ritual where I wake up and yell, “It’s my birfday! It’s myyyy birfday!” and then I break into song. Thank goodness the neighbours have moved out.
But no one will smile and say, “Yes, it is,” and then serve me breakfast in bed. And then lunch. And make me dinner. My birthday’s tend to revolve around food. I won’t go to Hecla or Hnausa dock for a photoshoot. Or have a scavenger hunt around the house or mall . Which I found rather stressful. If I owned last year’s birthday, I’m grasping this year’s like a cuddly teddy bear.
But some things never change.
On Monday night, my former husband, dropped by and he put a box (looks like cake) and two grocery bags (pizza and a Reuben?) into my fridge. If it’s not food, that’s super mean
Back to Monday night. We had my former husband’s famous pizza for dinner. He made another one for my birthday. Over tea and coffee, we discussed our relationship.
Though we want to stay in each other’s lives, we agree when the other finds someone else, that could be difficult. I pre-assigned his future girlfriend the name “Saffron,” and he assigned my future boyfriend “Stroganoff.”
I want him to move on and find someone. But not just “anyone.” You can find “anyone” sitting in a bar or looking for a rebound.
Right now, I like being alone. I love my solitude. I wish more people would realize they don’t need a significant other to feel complete. If there is a “next one,” they’d have to be amazingly, fantastically, magnificently awesome. Because I’m clinging onto my singlehood, discovering who I am again.
Yes, tomorrow will be different. When I wake up yelling, “It’s my birfday! It’s myyyy birfday!” I’ll be serenading my stuffed animals. I won’t have an endless bedroom service. I’ll be taking my own birthday photo.
However, if I survived Christmas and Valentine’s Day alone, my birthday will be a piece of cake.
And pizza.
Tammy W. Karatchuk 