Today is my adoptive father’s birthday. Ten days ago was my biological dad’s birthday. I have failed to do anything to celebrate these birthdays for the past few years. Even with setting a reminder on my phone, I have still managed to forget and then send a “crap, it was your birthday and I missed it,” text (for my biological dad), or a “happy birthday, the card’s in the mail” text to my adoptive dad (which then means I have to run to the story, buy a card and mail it ASAP or he’ll get suspicious as why it’s taking so long.
The subjects of birthdays are hard for me, though, since the idea of celebrating a birth reminds me of the time that I was born and then promptly given to strangers to be raised. I’ve hard that my fellow adoptees feel similarly. And November is the month of dad birthdays, which means we are heading into December and my own, and Potamus’s, which I hope will be fun, but I’ve already begun to feel the emotional meltdowns happening.
But this isn’t about me. This is about my dads. Happy Birthday to both of you!
boof & monk-monk 