In the midst of violent winds, mild rain and shattered leaves, we celebrate her 33rd birthday. “This is what I call autumn,” she says, smiling. For her, this is the perfect birthday, one under the falling rain. I decide to abandon the sun, which defines my ideal day. Today is her day; let it be as she wants it. I look at her, at her beauty, at her charisma as a young, sophisticated, wise woman and I admire all that I see. And this is my happiness.
Inside her little house, we blow candles and cut the cake. Mother and father celebrate their daughter’s independence, her achievements and successes. They stand by her, as they have stood for 33 years, cheering her, supporting her, loving her unconditionally. For them, this birthday is a birth of new changes, new beginnings. Now that she is living under her own roof, they will finally let her go.
We leave her as she washes the dirty plates and coffee mugs. We leave her as she listens to the rain, pours another coffee, remembering its aura, its fragrance, its taste as these will be the first of new memories.
Another birthday came and left. There are many more to come, and until then, I will count the leaves, watch the rain fall, and hope for sunny mornings.