Most close friends of mine know I don’t usually throw parties during my birthdays. My parents usually insist on throwing a party for me, and they always tell me it’s not really my celebration but it’s for the people around me. I used to think this is silly because, after all, it is my day, so what I usually do is I go out, alone, in my Zen mode and try to find or do something for myself to treat me.

I remember one birthday celebrating it on my own in an Open Source camp in Cavite, another one in Binondo, and another watching a movie just for the sake of dating myself. I always liked this type of birthdays…

Until recently, I had an event that almost changed my perspective about life. I realized it’s too short to be lived alone and to never share those triumphs and joys to anyone. I now want more birthdays to come. Happy ones. This one will really sound silly, but I am actually picturing myself enjoying with my brothers and sisters, popping balloons, spraying shaving cream at each other and laughing with our parents in a game of newspaper dancing.

I miss my being young, innocent, and fun-loving. I want to start over and spend more time with my family. They never left me in times of crisis, and even though I am helping out, I don’t think I can pay them back enough.

Or maybe we could all go to UP today. Have fun in the park.

Maybe we don’t need to do it on someone’s birthday. Maybe any day could do.