When I called her, she said she was talking to the moon. Asking him how the year would be for her.
She said she had a neat shot of vodka in her hand, and lot of memories in her head.
I asked her what she had in her heart…she laughed it off…
I told her to quit drinking. She said she would. Obedience was never for her. But when she told me she would, I knew she meant it.
She told me about the gift he had given her, a sketch of them holding each other.
She told me about the people who had already wished her.
She told me her anxieties of becoming a year closer to death.
She laughed at the awkward feeling in her that she called insanity.
She told me about her sleepless nights, how she thought about her real parents.
She told me about the tears that come out of her eyes, ‘just like that…’
She told me about her new office, about the mallu community there.
She told me she hasn’t been reading or listening to anything.
She told me how she has put on weight.
She said, she finally said, Wish Me My Birthday!
That’s when I wished her…
She said Thank You
I hung up.
I knew I should not be wishing her birthdays again.
I felt relieved…she had grown up!
