On the 23rd of April, it will be my birthday. It’s going to be one of the more unique birthdays that I’ve had because I’m not going anywhere to celebrate. It has me reflecting on years past. I reflect more on my life during my birthday than I do during the New Year. New Year’s Day is about everybody surviving another year. Birthdays are about just you. You completing another year of living on this Earth. Questions come up like, “Have I done anything to improve my life?” Or, “How many birthdays do I have left now?” A far cry from when I was younger and all cared about was what presents I got, or if my birthday party would be fun.

Because all I can do right now is remissness, I have decided to record birthday milestones. They’re not particularly important numbers, but memories that are strongest to me. The memories are more important than the number.

Four

The first birthday I remember. My birthday that year was right after Easter. When my extended family gathered for Easter, I announced that my birthday plans. It would be “Little Mermaid” themed and everyone had to dress up. I assigned roles on the spot. I don’t remember if there was any reason why who got what character, but I remember being decisive. I made my mother be the evil Ursula. My Father had to be the chef that tried to eat Sebastian the Crab. My grandfather was King Triton. My Aunt was Prince Eric, and her husband was Flounder. I made my poor great grandmother be Sebastian. Everyone dressed up. I was the only grandchild at the time, save my little sister, who I made be Scuttle the Seagull. They spoiled me. My great grandmother made and wore crab claws.

Ten

At ten, I deemed myself a teenager. Of course, I was far from it, but because it was a double-digit birthday I considered it close enough. I wanted so badly to be mature and grown-up. My mother agreed to a sleepover party, which was a big deal. I invited most girls from my class, but some had to be left out. Our house could only handle so many. A girl named Julie found out that she wasn’t invited and paid special attention to me that week. She got me to invite her to my party. “Titanic” had just come out, so I rented “Romeo and Juliet” with Leonardo DiCaprio in it. We were all in tears by the end of the movie, and my mom had to calm us down. I couldn’t sleep that night. I covered Julie up with my sleeping bag because hers had fallen off. She was angry to wake up with a sleeping bag that wasn’t hers. She never talked to me again after my party.

Eighteen

My birthday was the same day as senior prom that year. I had broken up with my high school boyfriend of three years. I worked up the nerve to ask another boy to prom. He said yes. The entire month leading up to prom, I harbored elaborate fantasies about what would happen during and after the dance. My parents let me host the after-prom party, so my friends could stay over that night. My ex was still invited. He was taking someone else. The day I found out he asked someone, I skipped the rest of my classes and went home. I sobbed all day. The prom was mediocre like most school dances are. The after-party wasn’t great either. We split up into two rooms and watched bad television. My date ignored me. The next morning I tried to kiss him, and he brushed me off. He might be gay. I never found out.

Twenty-Three

The year my birthday and Easter fell on the same day. Mom accidentally ordered two cakes online with a Groupon deal. The cake said “Happy Birthday and Easter.” We celebrated my birthday early at a new wine restaurant. My interest in wine and food culture was growing and stayed with me for the rest of my life. It was the first time I appreciated a restaurant like that. We cooked all day on Easter. Everything was delicious. This was the last year my family felt happy. The last year before I developed an Eating Disorder. The last year before my parents divorced.

Twenty-Five

My birthday on the Appalachian Trail. It was story-book perfection. My friends and I hiked into a North Carolina town called Hot Springs. There wasn’t room at the hiker hostel, so a few of us split a hotel room. The room had a hot tub and floor to ceiling mirrors. The woman who ran a hiker care facility baked me a birthday cake. She also had nail polish, and I got to paint my nails. My family sent a package full of pastries from my home town, and I split them with everyone at the bar that night. We stayed up until 2 in the morning. The day we celebrated was three days before my real birthday. But it didn’t matter.

Thirty-Two

I will be turning Thirty-Two this year. I plan on baking my cake. A double lemon pound cake because lemon is my favorite. I am terrified that I’m going to mess it up. I am terrified that I may never leave the house again. Life in quarantine has changed everything. But I’m going to use this day as an excuse to feel normal for a while. At the very least, it will be another memory I have to be thankful for. Another year to save for later.