The morning of my birthday, three days ago, I woke up and logged in to check my emails. I found many greetings and birthday wishes from my friends and family. It made me smile.
I got a message in facebook from one of my much older cousins. She wished me a birthday wish and said that she's wishing to God that I would have kids soon.
I was wincing while thinking, uhm... that is presumptuous of her to think I want kids right away. And even went ahead praying for that.
For one, I haven't had my grandeur wedding reception like my parents want. My mom would be livid. But then, I can tell her, well, blame my cousin, Tina, who's been talking to God about it. She's the culprit.
I chuckled thinking about it.
Well, I am thirty-three now. BUT despite that, I am thankful for all of God's blessings. And it is the first time that I am celebrating my birthday with a husband.
I have accepted and no longer in denial, that I do see more lines on the corners of my eyes. And I am in the market for some anti-aging cream... or some eye cream, possibly. Although, I'm not willing to pay for those hundreds of dollars worth of cream in tiny winy jar.
I also chatted with my sister (who is 7 years older than me) on Yahoo.
I said: I feel old.
And her answer was: Are you mocking me?
Which gave me the perspective that I was not that old. And actually a week before my birthday, ChicagoDimCorner's church just celebrated the birthday of its oldest member. A ninety-freaking-seven year old grandpa. His name is Don Taylor. Don has a really good memory. I'll say even better than mine. He remembers people and their stories. He is still capable of driving, painting his house and fixing his basement.
That's the way to live when you are ninety something, don't you think?
I couldn't really enjoy my birthday this time because it is just a day away from the fateful immigration hearing for ChicagoDimCorner, which turned out to be not that fateful anyway as it was postponed for another three weeks.
But anyway, I think the funniest thing someone said to me on my birthday was when my friend David said: Thirty three? Jesus died when he was thirty-three. And Tammy, his wife, dropped her head and shook it in disbelief that he just said that.
And the most touching was when my not-romantic and non-elaborate husband asked me to pray together with him and in the prayer he thanked God for bringing me into his life.
Touched. Yes, I was.
