Thoughts on my birthday night

Do I like Birthdays? I’m not sure, but let’s assume for a moment that I don’t.

I actually celebrated tonight the occasion of living the last day as a 25-years-old-girl. (Notice that I didn’t use the word woman, I’m too conservative when it comes to this specific word. Period). Ah, dear me..

So, if I went out telling people that I don’t like birthdays they will definitely assume I don't like getting older. Wrong. I love getting older. The older I get the happier I get, and the prettier I get. Just ask 7amoodi, my 7 years old nephew. Last weekend during their weekly visit, I showed him my passport photo and he said that I looked better - and younger - today than I did a decade ago. Remember my motto: "Kids are always right!”

We celebrate our birthday each year to commemorate the joyous event of our birth. My birth was most likely not a joyous event. Let’s be realistic here. My mom was alone in her room that night; my father was away (for some reason). She was about to die had not my brother, who happened to be a 6 years old kid, ridden his tiny bicycle to the driver’s accommodation in the residence complex my family used to reside at back in 1986. Not going to share the rest of the story. The end.

I just hope and pray I could make it up to my mom somehow. I mean seriously, what was I thinking? :D

Ok, enough rubbish throwing. It’s just that I felt like saying something here. I can do a lot of things at this specific moment, but writing is my favorite. And sharing what I write (no matter how pointless it could possibly be) is my second favorite thing.

Stay in peace & harmony wherever you are.

Love,

Salima