Damn Swede

I came across a picture from my 31st birthday earlier this evening. I was blowing out the candles on an ice cream cake half decorated with Spiderman sugar candies; the other half decorated with Disney princess sugar candies. Oh, I was not alone. My four-year-old nephew and five-year-old neice are also in the picture; we are blowing out the candles together.

Since we all moved back within the same metropolitan area, my family gets together to celebrate family birthdays. We usually group birthdays together, as months like April and August tend to be more popular. Benjamin was born on the 25th of October, five days before me. In fact, his parents tried to pass him off as a my birthday present that year and I feel a special kindship to the little guy. Lydia was born September 17th and she has to wait the longest of all, as her birthday is celebrated with Benji’s and mine. In this particular picture, Lydia is in the middle of Benji and I and she is wearing a terribly tacky Mulan princess crown. It is purple and pink and has flowers and sparkles and everything little girls love. My sister-in-law and I took bets on how long she would wear it because at the time of this picture she had been wearing it daily for over a month.

Benjamin is staring intently at the cake, as is Lydia, both eyeing the sugar candies intended for them. He also has a firm double-handed grasp on a plate to ensure quick service once the candles were out. All of our lips are pursed, caught mid-blow.

I wonder what our wishes were at that moment.

I went to see my former neighbor’s new house a couple weeks ago. I arrive after church in my Sunday best, right when the new furniture was being delivered. I ended up on the floor, screwing in the couch and loveseat legs faintly remembering Sinthia asking me to come over to help . . . so why didn’t I bring a change of clothes? Her four-year-old Ian was jumping all around the couches and then hovered over me wanting to know how to help. At some point in our conversation, he asked, “Carrie, when are you moving here?” I explained that I still lived at the old place and had no plans of moving. “But all your friends are here!” he protested.

I find a certain irony in the fact that I share a birthday celebration with Benji and Lydia. My sister-in-law once said, “No offense, Carrie, but I don’t know what it is about those third children that makes them so difficult!” Lydia cries at the drop of a hat and Benjamin laughs when you punch him. But they are both independent already and that is what I love about them.

As a child things are simple. To Ian’s point, why wouldn’t I move with his family? We are friends. As you get older, things become more complicated. There will be several more pictures of Lydia, Benji and I blowing out the candles. Things will change, we will grow older but my wish is that their independence will remain.