Outside Over There

It's May Day, which always makes me think of danger and my birthday.

It's coming up in a couple of weeks. I like that my birthday is in May. May is a beautiful month in Oregon, with everything greening and flowering. With the photos of my birth my dad included a little card that he lettered: "Hillary Wynne Avis May 16, 1978 A Sunny Day". And truly it never rained on my birthday until I had gone off to college in New York: it rained on my 21st birthday, the birthday that I celebrated by going to my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's sister's memorial service. Seriously. Then the next day we went with the ex-girlfriend to a fetish club where she got really drunk and refused to dance with me. But I digress.

Birthdays have always held good things for me. My mom would make me a birthday dress every year. That was one of her major sewing rituals. First day of school dress, Christmas pajamas, Easter dress (always matching my sister), birthday dress. My birthday parties were always very sweet and homemade and romantic. My mother would make tissue-paper bonnets for everyone, hang balloons on the clothesline, make a cake with real flowers on it. I couldn't imagine, then, having a birthday in any other month...I mean, FEBRUARY? Or worse, NOVEMBER?

I haven't had a birthday party in a long time, in part because I don't like to be the center of attention and in part because I no longer have a large circle of friends, but I do miss those afternoons in the backyard playing pin the tutu on the ballerina or whathaveyou. Even if I don't like cake.