When I was at school, I had a friend called Snarbs.
Actually I think his real name might have been Steven, but we all called him Snarbs. Something to do with him going overseas and having a cold and the native word for cold being Snarbley or something like that. I don’t really remember.
Anyway, Snarbs and I had one very important thing in common.
Our date of birth.
Snarbs was exactly eighteen months younger than I was, to the day.
I don’t remember exactly how we discovered this, but I think there was some birthday talk, and he made the observation that our respective days of celebration were exactly six months apart.
And with that, the idea of the half birthday was born.
I have to credit Snarbs with the idea; but once he mentioned it, a whole new world opened up to me! No longer did birthdays have to be confined to once a year; we could have two days of celebration!
No one really understood this concept, which I would later grow to realise was the general reaction. But every time it was my birthday, Snarbs would wish me a happy birthday, and I would wish him a happy ‘half birthday.’
And when his birthday rolled around, I would wish him a happy birthday, and he would bestow upon me the blessings of a happy half birthday. It was a reciprocal celebration. Neither of us felt that the other had more right to the day, or was encroaching on their moment. It was a shared camaraderie of specialness.
Sadly, Snarbs was the first, and last person, to ever wish me a happy half birthday.
Since those years have passed all that time ago, not one person has understood the significance of the 8th of September, and when I have tried to explain, they have looked at me like I am a crazy person.
Now I’m not asking for a lot. I don’t expect presents, or cake or any kind of melodic serendation. All I want is a general acceptance that I have made it through another half year of life, and the heartfelt appreciation by those nearest and dearest to me.
Scorn is certainly not on the list!
So this year, when Boatman started making noises about a bi-yearly acknowledgment of my date of birth, I was both surprised and overjoyed! After almost seven years of marriage he was going to celebrate the one day that had only ever been noticed by a guy named after an immune response.
And then, of course, came the realization.
It is not that he is planning a celebration.
He is starting a count down.
Because this year, the 8th of September is not just my half birthday; it’s the beginning of the end.
The last six months of my 20’s.
Seeing the dread and realization roll over my face in obvious waves, boatman leaned back on his pillow and then mentioned that perhaps, this year, he won’t stop at just my half birthday. In fact, maybe he should plan something every single month on the eighth, just so that no one in our immediate world will be able to forget the fact that come March, I’ll bid the 20’s farewell forever.
A fact I probably wouldn’t care about so much, if a certain Sea-Faring individual wouldn’t keep going on about. (I lie. I totally care. I’m just trying to play it cool so maybe he will leave me alone and we can both forget. )
So I’m getting my own back.
I’ve decided that if he wants to mark the event, the event will be marked! I’ve made an appointment and I’m getting my hair done, and going to have an iced coffee while I do!
And maybe some cake.
I may also use the time to reflect on what could possibly be a 30 before 30 lost, that I had no intention of doing, but feel the pressure to as the big three zero approaches.
Or I might just read trashy magazines which is obviously also a completely appropriate use of my time.
There is just one problem with my perfectly planned party.
A flaw that I didn’t even realise, until after I had set out to write this post which I hope will encourage you all to mark the dates of your half birthdays, and start some new worldwide trend.
A major mistake that has the ability to undermine not only the purpose for my ramblings, but also my intrinsic belief that half birthdays SHOULD be commemorated.
I made the appointment for the 6th.
Still counts right?