Turning 21
"The big TWO ONE, eh?" they all ask excitedly. Was today much different than it was yesterday than it will be tomorrow? Or is it just an excuse to get free gifts and for mom to have lobster?
I put on my biggest smile. Dolled myself and peppered me in perfume. I can hear the mirror saying "You look gorgeous, babe. Even if it isn’t you". The past few days had been a shit storm, and my birthday seemed less and less exciting as it approached. I told them, I don’t want a surprise this year. It will just depress me coz Ian wouldn’t be here.
I managed to call him, and for those brief minutes, I genuinely smiled for the first time in 3 weeks. But that would be the last I would hear from him until the next 4 months, for he will be in Missouri (yes, I’m aware of the irony of the pronunciation of the place and my current state) for training.
As I tried to sleep that night, I recall the times we gazed at the moon from the Roof Top Theater. There were hardly any stars, but the moon was always ever so loyal.
It was as if the nights would veil us from all others, and in our solitude, we would cry without shame, or laugh without care. I remembered how we held hands to comfort each other’s fear. How we wished we were a million miles away from here. So we would no longer need the night to veil us. In that moment, we were free.
That feeling of sheer liberty was absent that night I turned 21. The myth is that this is the year you get your key of freedom. But I went to bed that night and awoke in the same cage. Pretense, judgment and expectations engulf the dreams of this urchin.
It’s not that I want to sound ungrateful to my family and friends, who have been doing their best to celebrate, and I appreciate it. But at times, I look into their eyes and I see sympathy, and I feel they believe me to be pathetic. Immediately, the shackles are strapped on, and I fall helpless.
I wish for those nights when we were free.
