Birthdays

When the lady asked him is age
he held up three fingers.
When he grew a little older
and started school,
he spoke in halves.
I’m six and a half.
I’m seven and a half.
I’m eight and a half.

Birthday cakes.
Party favors.
Pointy, colorful hats.
Everyone gathered around
kids and adults alike
as he made his wish.

Several years later,
he celebrates at
his favorite hang out
with all of his buddies,
maybe even a few girls.

More time goes by,
and he celebrates
with his parents and wife.

A few more years pass,
and his children
gather around the table
to sing him
the Happy Birthday Song.
He lets them
blow out the candles.

Today,
his siblings no longer remember.
His parents are no longer here.
Grown children
only have time enough
for a quick call.
His wife surprises him
with a special gift.

The half-century mark
means no more halves
added to his numbers.
Cakes mean additional calories.
Don’t want to upset
the blood sugar level
or raise the cholesterol.

Gone are the days
of party favors and hats.
Too many candles
to place on top of a cake,
and no energy
to blow them out anyway.

Birthdays.
First they meant
he was growing up,
getting bigger, stronger.
Then they meant,
party time with friends.
Soon, they are reminders
of difficulties that lie ahead,
and signs of getting weaker.

Will a time ever come,
when he will know
the true meaning
of the day he was born?
Will he ever know
his purpose?
Will he ever know
how the world lit up
when he arrived,
and how the angels rejoiced?

by Lori (L.Virelli)

Advertisements