End of Holidays

Every year at this time, I’m hit with a triple whammy: Christmas, my anniversary, and my birthday. It must have seemed like a good idea to schedule a wedding in between Christmas and my birthday at the time, but I had never really considered the poverty that I would be living in forever.

I love Christmas, and I love giving presents. I never am able to give the kids what I want to, much less anyone else. Generally, I forgo presents so they can have them. I’m sure this is the way it should be.

Sometimes we’ve managed to go out for our anniversary. It is hit or miss, but sometimes we do. Last time we went out for our anniversary, the waitress gave me the check. I was greatly disturbed by that. To me, it signaled that there was no look of romance about the date. I don’t remember any romance, but still. This year, I planned a dinner despite the impending divorce, and he went to his grandmother’s instead.

Today is my birthday. I’m thirty-one, and I still have a fixation on presents. I like them a lot. There is no money for a cake or presents. My mom always sends me a present, and for that, I’m very glad. I feel like I should be over presents, but I can’t help myself.

Then again, the highlight of my day so far has been a call from my dad to wish me a happy day. It reminded me of a birthday from a long time ago, probably when I was 10 or 11. My birthday was on a weekend, and my dad was going fishing, and because it was my birthday, I got to go too. It was very exciting, and very cold. I remember my mom telling my dad to wake me up at 6ish in the morning, because that’s when I was born. He did, too. I was sleeping in the truck, with my head asleep on dad’s shoulder. He woke me up and wished me happy birthday. I smiled and went back to sleep. If only I could go back to sleep today.