A Recap of Birthday Wishes

    It’s easy to figure out why I would write something about this. Fine, don’t greet me. Your greeting is not edible, anyway.

 If my feeble memory serves me right (which it doesn’t), my parents would take me to children’s parties. I would play with the mascots. My first birthday wish when I was 6 years old was to have the perfect children’s party–a Jolibee party with all the mascots around me and play with them. I could never be happier.

 I didn’t want to be just an ordinary scientist when I was 7 years old. I wanted to be an astral physicist. I didn’t care what that meant (and I still don’t) but I sure liked how it sounded. On my seventh birthday I asked for a chemistry set– and it came true. I got test tubes and water color. I would pound the juice out of blades of grass, fill up a tube with pee and try doing some mad scientist experiment.

 When I was 8, I wished that I become a Chinese Emperor, after watching "The Last Emperor of China." The story was about a kid who became one. There was this scene when he was arguing with his friend while in the middle of the crowd. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he walked out on him. What fascinated me is that he walked ‘through’ the crowd–they all kneeled before his presence as they cleared his path in a very royal (or should I say "Imperial") kinda way. I promised to myself that when I grow up, the whole world will kneel before me. Dark, huh? Well, too bad for me, it didn’t come true.

 It was just about after that birthday when I noticed that my dad ain’t hanging out with us anymore, and on his birthday February the following year, my mom spilled it. I was about to wish for them to come back together, but due to some complications that mom patiently explained, I wished that they’d never get back together. So far so good, they’re still apart the last time I checked.

 Life didn’t come easy on us after their separation. I would imagine how my dad, who was one of the higher-ups in Meralco back then, would frown everytime he would give out our measly monthly support, like it was our fault that this happened. I’d catch my mom locking herself inside her room, weeping silently because she didn’t want us to see her in such misery. We feel how much our Mom loves us in every glass of juice she makes, every dish she prepares, and every sleepless night she spends when we’re sick. My heart would break everytime I see her this way. While me and my other 3 brothers were able to continue schooling alright, but other than that, we barely had enough money (actually we were way short) to get through the day. My shoes were all worn out and my school uniform’s stained with ketchup. 
 

 But I was smart back then. This is the only leverage that I have against those who’d make fun of me.  I was tormented by my classmates who never got tired of bullying me, the class reject, because I was a wimp and we were poor–not like the rest who’d get all the toys and the clothes that they want. I would escape to a quiet space inside school and cry on my knees. I would cry, and no one would hear. No one has come to my rescue. Perhaps no one will. 

 When I go back home, I’d pretend to be happy and start telling clumsy stories on how I got my bruises and wounds. My mom would scold me for not being careful. I’d cry a little but then take solace from the fact that at least, my mom will not have to carry my burden anymore. When everyone’s gone, I would sneak in to where the medicine cabinet was and wipe my tears off while I clean my wounds. As I fall asleep, I know that tomorrow…oh, I don’t  wanna know anymore.
 
 So on my 11th birthday I wished that we become rich: may be my mom would no longer have to cry. May be I can buy a new pair of shoes. May be I’d stop being the class laughing stock. May be I can stop pretending to be happy. May be I’d stop crying.

 A year has passed and I have yet to see the silver lining behind the cloud. On my 12th birthday I wish that they’d just die, period. My dad, my oppressors, and all the rich kids, no exemptions.

 High school was an improvement but the same old banana. It was during high school when I first felt that I had friends who made me feel "needed". Friends who’d take the time to care. Those who will defend a wimp like me. But because I didn’t have money, I was often left out when they go out and may be go malling together. Sooner or later I was unconsciously pushed back farther and farther. On my 13th birthday I wished that I have enough money so I can live a normal life…have normal clothes, have normal friends. But then I had A. Garcia,my bestfriend. Who would need them? As high school life went on, I gained even more "real" friends (those who I won’t think twice in greeting and hugging if we meet inside a mall or something.)

 UPCAT was just a week before my 16th birthday. I really wanted to go to UP because it was the best, so they said. If that meant that I’ll get to have classmates who will not alienate me and start treating me like a real human being then it is paradise, indeed. College was great. It was where I felt I belonged: nice people, no bourgeoisie environment to fit into. And friends who make you feel more than needed–but wanted..pretty much just like my old besty.

 When I turned 19 I wished that I get married to one of my college S.O.’s (significant other) in the future. I worked as a student assistant, and later on as a tutor. Part of my savings were kept so that when we get married, I’d have money to spend for her medications. And may be a little house away from the busy city. Just me and her. Oh well sh*t happens and let’s just say that I sure am happy that this wish didn’t come true. I’ll make sure of that.

  Now at 23, I’m not exactly at that point where I can say I’m well off but I’m sure glad that my mom’s very happy right now with her new husband, and my brothers are really doing well themselves. May be it’ll take a little longer for me to start my own business and raise a family but I don’t mind waiting. I like my job (finally), I have plenty of good friends and my family has survived (well, not in one piece but still…) So I guess, this year’s wish will be turned to a Birthday Prayer–A prayer to thank God for being cool enough to help me make my heart’s real desire, to come true. The method was pretty crazy if you ask me, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

41 days from now, another wish will be made. This will be my way of thanking God. I’ll reserve my wish, for someone else, who needs this wish far more than I ever would. This is for you, Master.