Eastirthday

please enjoy this backdated post from the ghost of birthdays past…

Eastirthday

Tuesday, April 02, 2024 @ 16:49 EDT mid-flight

Sometimes when we are being driven away from something horrific we are being driven towards something terrific.

One year ago at this time, I could not even fathom the idea of spending my birthday in Boston with family. I scoffed at this notion.

But it is kind of like randomly scattered sand on a plane or level surface, and suddenly music commences or vibrations occur. The sand moves. It is not so random after all.

Tiny particles of sand shift and gather in precise ways to create patterns seemingly meaningless yet just the fact that they exist is worth something. Surely more than nothing.

Organization amidst the chaos. I find it constantly. Many tell me it is because we see what we choose to see and to those people I simply say... well, yes.

We see what we choose and this forms our thought patterns. Shapes our behaviors. Influences and defines our reality.

You see a pile of sand as a pile of sand. A mere coincidence. An accident.  Happenstance.

I see a garden of flowers or an intricate snowflake or bubbles or animals.

Javier and I frequently message each other images of clouds and trace lines to create shapes. Pareidolia.

A pile of soil might be dirt to some but the grains could be used to spell out "HELP" in a situation of dire need, for a soul bright enough to see beyond what is considered "realistic" or "practical." Dirt could be thrown into someone's face, used as a weapon. A person could build a fort or cavern out of soil to shield oneself from harsh weather. A muddy field is a chocolate ice cream dream land for a child and a gooey sensory delight for the hands and feet. Fingers and toes.

I digress.

Patterns among the chaos.

For four decades, I have celebrated a holiday I have affectionately termed "Eastirthday." My birthday that happens to fall on Easter Sunday.

This holiday has ALWAYS been spent with family — as Easter was one of several annual family holiday gatherings, and when I was younger I did not have much choice.

Eastirthday eleven years ago was one of our last large extended family gatherings that I can recall — spent at the country club where my aunt and uncle were members. I remember having lots of delicious food, hearty laughs, and crying over some remark from my mother, and dashing outside for some fresh air. I always cry at least once on my birthday.

cue "It's my party, and I'm cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to...!"

Overall, the time with family was quality, and truly enjoyable. Especially because as I have aged, something curious has happened. My cousins on my mother’s side and I began bonding over this shared experience of what our childhoods were like. Different, separate lives lived, yet so strikingly similar. We would swap stories about our parents and know exactly what was meant and share in big belly laughs that surely counted for daily exercise. I quickly learned to withhold most stories about my family as a child from those outside my family due to judgment received. It is no wonder our family kept many secrets.

But I found that our generation, my cousins and I, long to tell our stories. The stories of our family. Perfectly imperfect. Imperfectly perfect. The stories of humanity. Humans trying.

A confluence of events brought me to El Paso, Texas and away from my family in the midst of a pandemic in 2020.  In a similar way, the universe conspired to return me to the Boston area for Eastirthday 2024.

Sunday, March 31, 1991

Sunday, March 31, 2002

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Sunday, March 31, 2024

"How many Easter birthdays have you had?" -- a seemingly innocent question from my brother.  He thought five, prior to my most recent two.  I thought "at least one or two" before these two.

When I learned the dates of all the Eastirthdays in my life, I did not expect to learn something remarkable -- this may be my last one. The next Eastirthday for me would be Sunday, March 31, 2086, if I am to live this long. A shocking fact. After celebrating one of these precious holidays per decade, I kind of just assumed they would keep happening periodically throughout my life.

If I missed this moment, and discovered this information afterwards... I would have felt heartbroken and devastated. I was fortunate enough to celebrate what may be my last Eastirthday with my mother, father, brother, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew — and even extended family including all my living aunts on my mother's side of the family and two of my cousins. These strong, beautiful, intelligent, loving, empowered women surprised me with a heartfelt gathering of the guardians which I will be remembering for a long while.

I quietly remembered my Aunt Adelaide, cousin Kirk, and of course musician Selena on this day as I do every year. I only cried when I awoke due to the unexpected migraine that dissipated with medication and a long shower.

Overall, it was the perfect holiday. The weather was lovely. Church on Easter Sunday and everyone dressed up. Easter lunch with our immediate family and a cake with candles that my niece helped me blow out. Delicious food a plenty. We went candlepin bowling. My niece’s first time and she slayed. That time with her was so special. I went for a solo walk by the water, heard some birds chirping and saw some beavers swimming. I received a FaceTime call from Auntie Terese towards the end of my walk, and enjoyed sitting by the lake conversing with her about life. I got cards filled with the loveliest of messages. I am forever grateful. Four years, spanning four decades, of Eastirthdays with family. The most special of all the holidays for me.