Petite and 26. 6

7:01am. She called. I was still asleep. The phone was in silent mode. So the birthday wish was pushed forward.  Fourteen minutes later, the sheets fell off my sleep-sodden body. 1 Missed Call. 2 messages.

I called her back. Hello mama. She responded with a laugh. That gentle, long one that precedes all her phone conversations. Petite, I called to wish you a happy birthday.

Yeah, back home I’m referred to by that pet name – Petite, oftentimes Petita. See, when mama brought me into the world, I was ‘tiny’ – not ‘fatty’ like my brother Daniel, so daddy thought I should be named Petite. Somehow, the name never made it to my birth certificate. Even now when I consider myself ‘fatty’, the Petite name has failed to leave mouths at home. But I love it.

She never forgets the birthdays of all her six children. She doesn’t keep reminders or wait for facebook to give her a notification. Mama just knows. So she is always the first to say Happy Birthday Petita.

Today’s Happy Birthday was more special though. I was born on a Wednesday. It was 8pm on June 26. So today being a Wednesday makes it really special.

I got out of bed and an involuntary smile crept onto my face.  I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled at the Petita standing there.

Alphaville’s I wanna be forever young and Hillsong’s Don’t Give Up were the songs I danced to. And the smile grew into laughters – silent and loud as the day grew older with me.

Birthdays remind me of the endless chase by time. It reminds me about mama’s adorability. It reminds me of the closeness of friends like you. And the invaluable presence of Caro, Julian, Irene. These sisters rarely forget this day. Daddy never remembers it. The brothers don’t bother about it. But the love for Petite, they never hoard.