One day in your life

I turned 34 a week ago (August 10) and I marveled at the speed with which it passed, without any fanfare, or what would my mother regard as a ‘proper’ celebration. A proper birthday celebration constituted having at least 20 people over to dine on a minimum of 5 main courses excluding appetizers, 2 desserts aside from the birthday cake, free-flowing cold drinks, with singing and dancing as optional activities.

I had to work. That was my primary excuse. And it was true. That week, I was finishing the project proposal I was developing for a new client (Derrick’s NGO) and at the same time I was doing the lay-out of the Cambodia Country Profile on AIDS for another client. I even skipped the consultation meeting I was supposed to attend (as a member of the Technical Working Group on MSM) because I had deadlines to meet. Deadlines trump volunteer work anytime. Especially if the deadlines will result in money being paid to moi. 

Aside from these, I also did not feel like celebrating because of an argument I had with my mother in Manila over a most indelicate matter, which I will not disclose (forgive me). I spent the most part of the morning replying to greetings sent to me by family and friends through SMS, from here to Manila to the States.

But an hour or so before lunch I suddenly had this urge to do something. Something that has been taught to me by my mother and grandmother about one’s birthday.

I immediately checked my refrigerator for its vegetable and meat contents, made mental notes then ran off to my favorite supermarket. After eating lunch, I set my housekeeper to chop vegetables into their appropriate sizes while I boiled a slab of pork belly, a whole breast of chicken, and gizzard and liver. Then I went back to my computer. I made return trips to the kitchen to check on her progress and to let the meats rest before they were to be chopped, too. Derrick came at around 2.30PM to give me feedback on the draft document that I submitted to him early in the week. We discussed the draft and the comments as I made return trips to the kitchen to sautee, stir, and blend.

At 4PM I sent this SMS to 5 of my friends: “Luto na ang bihon”. This was a surprise to them, since I hadn’t invited anybody to a party in my house like I did in the past 2 years. Derrick had to leave at 4.30PM to go back to his office. At around 5PM my friends started coming. Though I only sent messages to 5 people, around 10 arrived to share the pancit bihon that I cooked. I explained that this was not a real party in the sense that there was only the noodle dish, buttered bread, and cold water. I had to cook something like pancit so as not to break tradition and risk having bad luck. Because I wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Kimrun arrived at around 6PM and gave me chocolates in a heart-shaped box. For the first time that day, I felt really good. He couldn’t stay long, though, because he works nights.

My friends left around 7PM, and I was poised to spend a quiet evening by myself but Kaloy arrived. I explained that all of the pancit had been eaten. After reheating some food for dinner, Kaloy and I just sat by the verandah, talking as he drank his daily dose of beer. He left shortly before midnight, and I went back to work on my computer and slept at 2AM.

Gone were the years when I felt giddy with joy and anticipation days before my birthday, when I had an almost-permanent smile on my face the whole of the day itself, and when I remained excited a week or so after the celebration.

Have I kissed those days good-bye?

  the product of idle hands