Wild life

Birthday

My parents were always gone on my birthday. It was memorial weekend that I was born on. So every year they would take a trip horse riding with their friends to celebrate. I stayed home with my other siblings. Sometimes we would go to our aunts house right up the road from our farm. We lived on a lane in which, it was all family members.

We lived in a duplex that was built by my father and his father and a few others who helped. My grandfather lived on the left side in a quaint small one bedroom apartment-like part of the house. It was connected to our house, but we would need to go through our green room, which was connected to the front of our house; and exit through the front door in order to make our way to his door. He was always so happy to see us as visitors. He lost his wife not long before I became part of the family.

He was lonely, but would never admit it. He would simply come over to our house and sit in the green room and light up one of his cigarette-cigars. I couldn’t remember the name of them, only that the smell was a very strong, but sweet smell. And he would accidentally leave a butt sometimes and I would see the red deer on the filter. I have very fond memories of my grandfather. He was the rough around the edges type.

He would tell you what he thought, without a moments hesitation. But had a serious soft spot for children. He often came over to bring sweets, my favorite were the little vanilla cookies he would bring to share with my siblings and I. Sometimes he would bring fruits like bananas, and apples, most of the time it was oranges.

There were sometimes where I didn’t see him much. He developed Alzheimer’s and dementia as I grew older and he would sit on his porch not knowing where he was, but his cigars brought him comfort and he would smoke them, and put them in old Frank’s beans cans and leave them on his porch. We’d wished he didn’t smoke, but once a habit, always a habit.

He would come over on my birthday, or visit wherever we would stay for that weekend. And he would give the sweetest hugs. He never said anything about it, but he didn’t approve of me not celebrating on my actual day. But my brother was born the day after, though he was much older. My sister was born 6 days before, we were 2 1/2 years apart.

We would celebrate either the day before they left for their trip, or the day they returned. We all had a joint party, where my parents friends would come over and help celebrate. But I never had any friends over. I was never asked to invite anyone so I didn’t think it was allowed. There wouldn’t have been anyone to invite anyways. No one ever showed up when invited. So, I never bothered to ask anymore. I was okay with being alone. It was after all, not just my day. It was my brothers and sisters too.

After a while, I got used to it. It became a routine every year. Parents would leave, we would celebrate together, and then it’d be over. It hurt a little, but I pushed it aside because I thought it was normal for families to do this. To celebrate all together early or late. But it made me feel lonely on my actual birthday. Whoever we stayed with sometimes made an effort to celebrate, but it wasn’t every time. Most just told me happy birthday and then when about their day. My cousin had gotten with someone a few years later, and he also had a soft spot for children, he was so nice to us all. One year on my birthday we were staying with them, and I didn’t think anything of it, I was just going about my day as normal. He left to the store as he usually does, but this time he came back and held a gift bag out for me.

“Happy birthday” he said with a smile.

I opened it and found a few things, some nail polish, candies, bracelets. I was ecstatic. I gave him a hug and said “thank you so much” He responded with a sweet smile and hugged me back. I immediately started doing my nails. I never had nail polish of my own, I always used my sisters or my mother’s. I painted them solid white with black polka-dots. And painted them with a clear glittery gloss. I loved them.

He made me feel special. And I was so happy that whole weekend.

Upon returning home, my mother had asked me “Did you tell him it was your birthday and that you had gotten no presents?” What? Why would I say such a thing?

“No, I didn’t say anything at all. He just came from the store and gave this to me” she had a smile on her face. Almost evil. It churned my stomach. And that’s when I realized, I would be in trouble for this.

“Well just wait until we get home.” I felt sick. I was really about to be in trouble for something someone did for me. I had not asked for anything or even mentioned my birthday at all. Yet, I was the one to blame.

We arrived home after being picked up from my aunts house, we were only two minutes down the road from them. My stomach did flips the whole time. We pulled into our driveway and were told to go out our things inside and come back and help unpack the horse trailer/camper that they had stayed in while they were away. Dad went to out the horse away while my siblings and I helped our mother bring their things inside and put them away.

Once we were all done, we were told to go inside and put our things away next, to take our dirty clothes to the laundry room. Except this time mother told everyone to give their dirty clothes to me to put in the laundry room.

The laundry room was located at the very back of the house. I was nervous. I knew what this meant.

I collected everyone’s things and hurried away to put the clothes into their respected piles. We all had our own laundry pile because there were so many of us. Eight, to be exact. But my three older siblings were my parent’s biological children, the other five of us were fostered- to be- adopted. As I finished putting everything away I could hear my mother’s steps. A wave of panics hit me immediately. I just stood there as she came down the step into my brother’s bedroom, which had connected to mine and led right to the laundry room.

She was angry. She had an evil smile on her face that to anyone who didn’t know better, could be mistaken as sweet. Her blue-green eyes glistened with menace.

She approached me and asked again

“Did you tell him you didn’t celebrate your birthday and you felt left out?” And followed with “So that he would feel sorry for you and go buy you things?”

“No. I didn’t. I swear.” That made her mad. She grabbed my hair and pushed me into the laundry room. I stumbled and fell back into a pile of my sister’s clothes. I tried to get up, she caught me before I could get my footing and grabbed me by the hair and slammed me back down onto the clothes.