October has always been one of my favorite months for the simple selfish reason that it contains my birthday. Of course, I love autumn, too, but my birthday was always the main draw. In my world, October is a month for birthdays.
In elementary school, I shared October with two of my classmates, whose birthdays were the first and second of the month. Once I asked one of them what his favorite month was, and he responded energetically, “October, of course!” I smiled and asked him why, assuming it was for the same reason I liked it. “Basketball season!” he replied, and jumped around excitedly while I scoffed. Who cares about dumb basketball season when your birthday is coming up?
My grandmother’s birthday is about a week before mine, and as long as I can remember, we’ve had a family birthday party at her house. The first one I can remember well included opening presents out on the deck, and I got a Lite Brite. I didn’t have any cousins on my mother’s side until I was in junior high, and then, two years in a row, there were additions to the October birthday party. When I got married, my husband joined the ranks of those in my family with October birthdays, since his is a week after mine.
Our most recent October birthday party featured my grandmother, insisting that it was just the normal October birthday party and not anything else special for anyone specific, despite the unusually large attendance of those who came to celebrate just for her. We also had a delightful autumn walk: we got wet in the creek, marched through a recently harvested corn field, and picked up sticks to walk with.
I’m sure that October will always be one of my favorite months, even when everyone starts to come to the party to celebrate just for me.
Happy October, everyone. And Happy Birthday, everyone I love.
No comments:
Post a Comment