Childhood dream birthday
Children love birthdays, don’t they? It’s when they feel extra special, loved, appreciated, and celebrated. I’ve been to children’s birthday parties before, birthdays of my cousins and neighbors, and birthdays of those children I didn’t even know. Their parties were full of colors, people, and food, and sometimes there were clowns or people who painted the guests’ faces.
Seeing the smiles and hearing the child’s laughter makes my heart happy because I know their birthday celebration will be a core memory for them when they grow up.
I grew up in a not-very-privileged family; though we eat two to three times a day, we have a place we call home, we have clothes, and enough things to sustain and continue living. As a kid, I didn’t realize how hard our life was until I was old enough to understand. My parents did their best to give my siblings and me an easy life when we were young, even though they suffered in silence.
I never experienced a birthday party though my parents always tried to cook something, such as spaghetti, lumpia, pansit, putong puti, and other ordinary Filipino food, with a low budget. Then we’d invite some of our neighbors or relatives if the food was enough to share.
If we were tight on budget, my mom would cook ulam for dinner, like adobo or barbecue, or we would just buy inihaw na manok. We’d call my aunts, grandma, and my paternal cousin to eat dinner with us.
A birthday cake wasn’t always present, but I didn’t find it necessary for my birthday. If I remember correctly, I only had cake when I was 9, 17, and 18, and they weren’t given by my parents. My cake from my ninth birthday was from my auntie, who baked as a hobby, while my two other cakes were from my brother’s girlfriend. It was fine for me because my parents still tried to provide something to make my birthday special.
I was happy with those celebrations; they were simple yet memorable for me as a child, but then, I always dreamt of experiencing those kinds of birthday parties, where there were lots of people, lots of food, and, of course, lots of gifts. I remember that I once attended my classmate’s seventh birthday when I was in second grade. It was a massive party. Lights, sounds, and table set-ups were the first things I saw when my mom and I entered the venue. As a child, I envied her at that time because I also wanted that kind of party. I asked myself, “Kailan ko kaya mararanasan ‘to?” and hoped one day I would experience it myself. (I was also invited to another party similar to this, but I wasn’t able to attend because we didn’t have enough money to buy gifts; it was a twins’ birthday party.)
Back then, I wasn’t even aware you could celebrate your birthday at a fast-food restaurant such as Jollibee, maybe because I wasn’t introduced to one or maybe I just grew up poor. Honestly, I think I just knew it was a thing during 2020. Or perhaps I knew it before, but I did not care at all. But now that I’m grown up, I still wonder how it feels to celebrate the birthday party I’ve dreamed of since I was in elementary school.
A Jollibee birthday party is an incredible and memory-core experience for a child. The red mascot, the iconic Chickenjoy, and the toys from fast food can make a child the happiest human being ever.
And maybe it will be the same for the adult me in the future—the same feeling of a child in the middle of a group of people singing “Happy Birthday” and the big red mascot standing to the side.
Perhaps the things that we didn’t experience when we were younger, such as that birthday party that we always dreamed of and the gifts and food we wished were present at the table, can be fulfilled by our adult selves. Where we can make our 7-year-old self cry out of happiness.
Maybe we are destined to experience it when we’re older rather than as kids, so we can vividly remember how happy our hearts were during that moment and how fulfilling it is to finally experience our dreams.
Children love birthdays, don’t they? It’s when they feel extra special, loved, appreciated, and celebrated, but some adults feel the same, too.
Desiree A. Cauzon, 18, is from Cabanatuan City, Nueva Ecija. She is an incoming freshman at Phinma Araullo University and aiming to be part of the University’s publication. She was a campus journalist in high school.
