birthday manifesto (revisited)

today is my birthday, and well, actually, birthdays are the best

If you’ve known me longer than five minutes, you’ll know that I love birthdays.

I’ve often wondered why I love birthdays so much. One obvious answer is that I love my birthday date. May 22 is objectively a magical day—the nostalgia of having a late May birthday in grade school bubbles to the surface for me. The date always fell near the end of the school year, so everyone was always happy, energized, and still around before summer vacations. My childhood best friend’s birthday is May 21, which also added to the magic when we were kids. In my adulthood, May 22 feels like the sunny start of my new year. In Texas, the sun would shine without being too hot, and here in Seattle, the sun is shining without being too cold.

But, my love for birthdays is not only because May 22 is a magical day. It’s also the love of having a hyper-specific reason to celebrate someone. I don’t only love my birthday, I love celebrating my people on their birthdays, too. A birthday is a reason to honor a friend or loved one outside of the culturally approved milestones—getting married or having kids (though, those are certainly worthwhile pursuits that I also love celebrating with my people).

My Gemini sun also amplifies this feeling—I love any reason to channel wit and exuberance, and the duality of birthdays being both unique and ubiquitous makes my brain tingle. A birthday is solely yours and mine, and we share each of our days with scores of others around the globe.

Meanwhile, my Libra rising sings at the reciprocity, oh, the balance and justice of celebrating one another’s solar returns, back and forth, forever and ever! I’d be remiss to mention my slightly macabre fascination with aging and death—birthdays are a celebration of the former as an alternative to the latter. Whatever the reason I love them so much—this year, in this moment, I still love my birthday and yours because of the reasons I shared last year in my BIRTHDAY MANIFESTO.

So, friends, today is my birthday. Today! is my! BIRTHDAY! I’ll be celebrating all weekend, actually, with good food, best friends, yap sessions, dog snuggles, a scenic hike, and family calls. I’ll also be holding space for some of the small birthday traditions I’ve created as an adult—sipping a Manhattan, wearing my grandmother’s black onyx ring, and listening to Tom Petty on vinyl.

This year, I’m adding the birthday manifesto to the birthday traditions line up. Reading it on this day, May 22, is part of my birthday lore now. Thank you for being here with me.

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birthday manifesto

originally published: may 22, 2024

A birthday is a day to celebrate you. 
It's like the perfect pair of jeans,
hitting every green light on a drive,
warm sunsets on a patio,
checking the clock at 5:22,
your best friend's smile, or
that one Taylor Swift song,
you know the one.
 
A birthday is a day to celebrate you. 
Just you you you.
Do you need permission?
I'll give to you what
I give myself annually—
permission to celebrate me 
with gusto and grace,
pomp and circumstance,
confetti and candles,
sequin and sass,
with all my favorite things
befitting me.
My loves right there,
cheersing me:
salud! 
kanpai! 
prost!
here here!

And, well, actually, it is
just one day, or maybe 
birthday month.
One day is not too much, really,
for concentrated collective celebration,
unique to each of us—
a fingerprinted solar return.

I tell you, this is how you celebrate:
slowly, fondly, boldly.

I remember the year I turned 36.
I strolled Main Street, one hand in his,
my human love with blue eyes eyeing me. 
The other bound to my canine love, 
with a fluffy tail brushing each passersby.
They stop: ooohs and ahhhs 
and isn't he so pretty.
Sharing spotlight, of course,
is okay too—it is my day, my rules.
And he is a good boy.
So we continued, the three of us, strolling
slowly, slowly, slowly.

I drank too much coffee, 
but even more water.
36 years of wisdom telling me 
to hydrate on that sunny day. 
An avalanche of texts and calls.
My mother singing:
happy birthday to you, 
happy birthday to you,
happy birthday Cassie Sue.
My best friend smiling from afar:
I am grateful for you every day.
My sister by choice saying:
I can’t wait to see you soon.
His blue eyes on me, again:
happy birthday, my love, he said
fondly, fondly, fondly.

That day, in rolling Walla Walla wine fields, 
laughter and satiated sighs echoed,
the Washington sun kissed our skin.
Windows down, my hand riding the waves.
To my side: those blue eyes behind aviators.
In the rearview: ears flapping, tongue lolling.
These are the morsels perfectly paired with 
sips of wine I love,
or maybe a Manhattan, served up.
And definitely, most definitely,
pomme frites and oysters relished
boldly, boldly, boldly.

Thank you for the wishes.
I have many of my own.
One is to celebrate yours 
with gusto and grace,
pomp and circumstance,
confetti and candles,
sequin and sass,
with all your favorite things
befitting you.
I’ll be right there.
Cheersing you, as you cheersed me:
salud! 
kanpai! 
prost!
here here!

Raising a glass of wine I love,
or maybe a Manhattan, served up.
With a red-lipped smile.
Open-mouthed,
Clear-eyed,
laughs and stories spilling out, effortlessly.
Because it is me, 
toasting you as we should, in a way
fit for the queen of her own universe:
slowly, fondly, boldly.

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