Yesterday was a friend of mines birthday. We went out to eat for 3 hours and had lots of fun. I love getting together like this for birthdays and my birthday. However this wasn’t always the case. Growing up I never knew my real birthday and it always bugged me that everyone else knew there’s. Some people even knew the exact time of birth. I had no idea. I used to look at calendar and feel like it was blank.

I did have a birthday that my adoptive parents gave me when I was adopted. Growing up this is what we celebrated but it always felt so …hollow and fake. Even thought we had cake and everything it never felt like it was mine. Don’t get me wrong I still enjoyed my birthdays and of course loved the presents…who doesn’t?

Looking back on it now I think those feeling of emptiness were really part of something bigger. Your birthday while not being terribly important to the in larger scheme of life is an important part of your identity. Its something so simple that people take for gran it. Whenever someone asked how old I was I would say something like “I’m 15…I think” It was that little bit of uncertainty that bothered me so much. I could be 15 or 14 or 16. I never knew.

Now that I know when my birthday is, I developed a sense of pride when I tell people. After 16 years of uncertainty it feels so good to be able to look someone in the eye and say I was born on may 22, 1981 at 2pm in San Salvador. I think that why I make such a big deal of it now and the fact that I have two birthdays. I’ll joke with friends and say “today is my second birthday what did you get me?” Of course they always come back with “you only get one” Hey it doesn’t hurt to try.