It Takes One Person

I grew up in a home where birthdays were rarely acknowledged. It was a culture passed down from my parents to my siblings and I, and we subconsciously threaded the same path. I often found myself conveniently wishing strangers a happy birthday, but when it came to my siblings, the strength in my voice would lose its will to come alive. The feeling of trying and failing was familiar because this was exactly how difficult it was to say "I love you" verbally to those I cared about. Every emotion was rather expressed through actions.

My sister was one of the people I was closest to, but even our relationship was characterized by this strict way of showing affection through deeds alone. We could tease each other all day, talk about the most unhinged things, eat together from the same plate, and show up for one another, but saying something as simple as "Happy birthday" felt strangely difficult.

Many times, I felt inadequate because I saw others have a truly happy birthday. The girls in my boarding school would often have their parents visit them with a full cake and some sweets to share with the class. Even I would join them to sing a cheerful song to make the celebrant feel special before cutting her cake. I had learnt not to attach so much importance to these days, but somehow, I considered the gestures the nicest things to experience, and I also wanted one. What I did not know then was that wanting something different was the first step towards creating it, and sometimes, it takes just one person to break uncomfortable family patterns.

I remember how odd my dad would look if someone ever asked him what he planned for his birthday or ours. It was funny and sad at the same time. He would ask what the obsession with celebrating birthdays was about or if they'd become too comfortable splurging money on a surprise party that may not be appealing to the celebrant.

Eventually, I learnt to see beyond his words. I realized that he was also a victim of nonchalance towards special days. His parents never cared about birthdays either or made it a tradition to blow out candles on those nights, as this was, at the time, a habit of privileged people in my country. But they loved him regardless, and he transferred that love to us and proved it in many other ways.

On my sister's 27th birthday, I intentionally placed an order for a beautiful piece of jewellery in her favourite colour, some cupcakes and canned drinks. I also made beef stir-fry pasta, which I planned to serve her in bed since I was sure she was going to be home all day.

When I had everything all set, I got into her room with the gifts, and I could see the confusion in her face. I almost let out a laugh.

"Happy birthday, sis," I whispered as I handed her the presents before sitting beside her.

"Oh my God, thank you," she said with her mouth wide open.

Her eyes looked pleasantly surprised. The smile on her lips couldn't find an escape, as she opened the jewellery box.

She pressed her hands against mine and thanked me again.

"You went all out to prepare this meal? It tastes a lot like one prepared in a restaurant," she blurted out.

I laughed because I knew she was shocked that I did the cooking despite not being a huge fan of it.

"Yes, I did. I went to the market this morning and made it quickly. It wasn't difficult, I promise. I used a good recipe I found online."

She paused before responding.

"We don't vocally say happy birthdays over here. This is our first."

"Well, you're special and you deserve it. I think we should start making this our own tradition," I said before sharing a hug with her.

That moment felt like a dream come true. I had been waiting for it all my life, and experiencing it was the best thing in the world that day. Watching my sister bask in euphoria over her gifts and the meal made me the happiest, and there I knew we had broken the chain of never saying happy birthdays or making each other feel special on our big days.

That same year, I had a wonderful birthday too because, for the first time, my siblings got me a huge cake and drinks, alongside some other gifts and generous birthday wishes said aloud to me. We also took many beautiful photos which now sit as lifelong memories for me. I was elated, but most importantly, both experiences taught me that we can change things for ourselves if we want to, and we can also learn to expresss love to one another in ways we have always dreamt of because we will never get time back.