For my entire life, my birthday has always been a spectacular and memorable celebration. I was born on my grandmother’s birthday and wedding anniversary. My father’s mother was an identical twin, and she and her sister held a double wedding on their birthday. What a way to commemorate the day. From the moment I was born, my grandmother and I became connected and close in a way that no one else could. When I was young, we celebrated our birthdays together. Dinners of salmon and mashed potatoes, and birthday cakes homemade by my mother’s close friend from school. Lavish, butter cream frosting always died shades of purple, our favorite color. When I was young, I remember having sledding birthday parties and taking trips to the mall with my friends for shopping and to see the latest Rom Com. In my high school years, my mom, aunt, cousin, and I would take bitterly cold trips up North to see my sister at college and explore Lake Placid. Dinner at all my favorite places, ice skating at the Olympic center, ice cream sundaes from Stewart’s. Every year my mother religiously hung the multicolored birthday sign from the same dining room window. I blame her for how I take my birthday so seriously nowadays. It was my mother, along with grandmother, who showed me how to cherish and proudly celebrate the beautiful day on which I was born. February 23rd, 1993. 2/23/93. I loved how my birthday had a jazzy ring to it.
Once I hit college, the celebration of my birthday changed. My parents would still make the cold trek up north to wine and dine Savannah (my best friend and roommate throughout college) and I. They packed the van full of presents, cards, and baked goods from my family and friends back home. They would unpack the goodies in our dorm room, keeping us stocked up for another month or so with homespun goodness. After my fancy birthday dinners out, Savannah and I would hurry back to our dorm room to change and pregame for the night. Quickly getting the latest scope on where the party was and what band was playing at Java. There were many hungover mornings of saying goodbye to my parents in the parking lot, them always wishing me another wonderful trip around the sun. My 21st birthday was unforgettable. My whole entire family seemed to come up for this one, my aunts, uncles, cousins. After waiting patiently for 21 years, I could now legally order a glass of wine at the restaurant and beer from the bar. It was a celebration of constant cheers, raised toasts, and multiples wishes. Without ever learning of her surprise, Savannah carefully went on to throw me a flapper themed birthday party in our dorm room. Sending me away to get ready with Alyssa and having a dress already picked out for me to wear and party the night away in. A “bouncer” stood guard by the dorm door and ushered me into a fully decorated hallway that led to our room. The room was packed full of our closest friends, a chocolate cake made by Al, the record player blaring, boas being worn and passed around, and streamers hanging from the ceiling. It was a beautiful night and to this day my only surprise birthday party. Everybody should have at least one. Thanks to Savannah I had the best one.
After my 21st birthday, Savannah set the bar even higher on how I should be celebrated, and it was a year later that I would make the biggest wish of my life. The winter of my 22nd birthday was cold, with temperatures dipping below zero almost every other day. I can still remember moving back to college in a snowstorm after my semester away in hot and humid India and having the worst culture and climate shock one could have. North country winters were no joke. In hopes for sunnier days, I decided to throw myself a beach themed party. Wearing nothing but a yellow bikini top, orange skirt, and a flower luau crown around my head, I danced the night away drinking tiki rum drinks and pretending like I had a killer tan, forgetting all about the yards of snow outside my dorm room window. When the clock struck midnight, I closed my eyes and made my wish. One that would forever change my life. I wished that for my next birthday I would be celebrating it on a real beach. In the Florida sunshine. Swimming freely in the Gulf of Mexico. When I opened my eyes, I had this strange and altering feeling. I knew I was the only person that could make my wish come true. And if I was going to Florida, I only wanted to do it with one other person, and that person was Savannah.
I find it interesting how you can remember emotions, colors, tastes, sensations. But for some reason I don’t ever specifically remember planning that trip to Florida with Savannah. I had dreamed and mulled over the idea of it sure, but when it came to us packing up and leaving, I can’t quite remember what I thought of it all. Did I think we could make it work? Did I think we would come back? Little did I know that this trip would forever change the course of my life for years to come. Savannah and I left on a Sunday night. Hugging my parents’ goodbye and not knowing the next time we would see them. Some called it crazy; we called it freedom. Looking back, I’m surprised my parents even let us go. We barely had a plan. I remember having around $600 to my name and a few bags packed with my summer clothes, and food and snacks all supplied by my mother. The plan that Savannah and I did have was semi sketched out. We had a list of stops we would make along the way and a paper full of contacts we could crash with if we needed to. This was the time before smart phones and Google Maps, and the only directional device we had was a Rand McNally map. We knew what we wanted to do, and we set out to do it. In Savannah’s ’93 white pickup truck, we left New York and headed south, fulfilling the American dream of the classic American road trip. I was 22 and she was 23 years old. The world was our empty slate, calling for us to make it our own. The only thing we knew when we left was that our end destination would be Mallory Square, Key West. My sacred named place. The furthest point south you can drive in the contingent United States. I knew that was exactly where I wanted to be for none other than my golden birthday. The day I would turn 23 on February 23rd.
After numerous stops, multiple breakdowns, and one magical music festival on Biscayne Bay in Miami, Savannah and I eventually made it to Sombrero Beach in Marathon, Florida for my 23rd birthday. We celebrated with our toes in the sand, drinking coronas with lime and soaking our hair with lemon juice. Looking out across the ocean, I realized that we as humans are capable of anything we set our mind to. Even if it’s something as simple as making a birthday wish and setting out to make it come true. Since the day I turned 23, my birthday has served more as a day of reflecting on what I accomplished within the past year. Almost like my own personal “New Year.” A check in with myself, asking what did I accomplish over the past year, and what do I wish to accomplish moving forward? What wish am I going to make when I blow out the candles and what dream am I going to try my very best to fulfill before turning one year older?
After successfully making it to the Keys and securing an apartment and two stable jobs, I rode out my time there for well over a year. My 24th birthday was celebrated with all my new Florida friends, on the catamaran I would first mate on for tips at night. We sailed into the most glorious sunset, and I was showered with the most beautiful gifts and a dreamcatcher homemade cake (thanks Heather). Living in the Keys was where I met Kevin, and Kevin became the reason for how I made it to Michigan. For the next 7 years my birthday would be spent in the bitter cold of Detroit, a place I never saw myself moving to. But how thankful I am that I did. My mid 20’s to early 30’s birthdays were spent in booths downtown listening to DJ sets, Greektown suites with a view, parties never leaving the hotel room, champagne toasts, ski trips to Boyne Mountain, Savannah coming out to visit, fur coats, and dinners at Highlands with the man I now love. How these glorious and ceremonial birthdays all came to be because of one birthday wish I made in my college dorm room 10 years prior. And how so many more wishes have come true since. Starting my own blog, learning to dive, reconnecting with home, finding my soulmate, traveling to new places, becoming a teacher, writing more regularly, and remembering to always dance to the music that makes my heart sing. Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it all.