“Do you feel any different?” The question I got asked every year had the same answer each time- no. For as long as I can remember I’ve spent my birthday hypnotized by a glowing cake being absorbed by the idea of getting older. As soon as I extinguished the dancing flames that casted a soft, yellow spell on me I was supposed to magically become someone new. I was supposed to transform into someone older, prettier, and wiser than the person I was just a second before. Then why did it never happen? I would be tucked away in dreams about seven, ten, thirteen, and sixteen long before the clouds were thinking about crying on a sweet, delicate flower’s shoulder so that the world would erupt with color. 

     At seven I wanted to be like the older grades that swung their bodies across monkey bars and didn’t cry when they fell from the rock wall at recess. I was thrilled when I turned ten because that meant I would soon be eleven or twelve, each year closer to not being seen as a little girl anymore. Though at thirteen I didn’t want to be seen at all, I wanted to disappear into the shadow in the corner of the wall. The age that I had yearned to be wasn’t what I had expected at all. The person in the mirror wasn’t tall or graceful, she didn’t have eyes that captivated my soul in a way that made it hard to look away. Instead, her face was wounded in scabs that were hard to not touch and she stood there awkwardly, this wasn’t a girl that I would look at and think, “I wish I was you.” Is this growing up? If I had known sooner then I would’ve wanted to be each age for a little longer and cherish the things that got me called ‘immature’ a little more. 

     Each year when my family gathered around to harmonize, singing the tune of “Happy Birthday” that everyone can recite by heart, they never warned me about life. They never mentioned that I wouldn’t need training wheels forever or that playing with dolls wouldn’t always bring me excitement. Most importantly they never explained why life should only be celebrated on birthdays. Time never ceases to go on, which may be considered a tragedy for humans, but for me that comes in the form of a gift. I once took my birthday for granted, only thinking about the future and not realizing that there can be no future without the past. From years of wishing on a waxy lump to be someone I’m not, I realized that you have to learn how to live in the moment because the future will inevitably come. For most, birthdays are the one day of the year when someone can be truly appreciated for just existing, but I like to think that each day is everyone’s birthday. Each day is a reminder to celebrate your life, and others, and appreciate the age you are now before it’s gone.