Today is my mom’s birthday. I am in charge of decorating the kitchen. Usually my mom decorates, especially since she has a particular way of having the kitchen—it is “her territory.” But since it’s her birthday, I’m not going to allow her to put up her own decorations.
I wait until she goes to take a shower to pull out some miniature “happy birthday” hanging signs to tape to the ceiling fan above the table. I consider putting multi-color confetti on the table and the island, but it would make too much of a mess at dinnertime.
I pull out the banner to hang from the double windows. The banner comes out in two pieces, being ripped between the “I” and the “B.” I pause and stare at it.
This banner has been in my family for years. I can’t pinpoint when we bought it; I think it might’ve been my mom’s birthday as a joke for her fiftieth milestone birthday. Dad put it up over the kitchen windows and Mom’s eyes shined when she saw it. She turned to the fridge before doing a double take back at the banner.
“The ‘I’ and ‘B’ are in the wrong spots!” Mom exclaimed.
Dad and I looked at the banner, and we laughed. We didn’t notice it. But we still kept it up during the celebrations.
The next birthday was Jimmy’s. The banner was in the background of him blowing out his candles. Then it was Dad’s birthday. I struggled to put the banner up, nearly slipping from the chair I stood on. The banner stroked against my arm, as if trying to catch my fall.
Finally, my birthday came around. The aroma of bacon and pancakes lured me downstairs in the early morning. I turn the corner into the kitchen, the banner already on the window as if to say, “good morning.” Later that night, I blew out my candles, and the banner moved with my breath.
I know I can easily go buy another banner, but there will never be another one like this. The banner is purposely misspelled “HAPPY IBRTHDAY,” and other banners will be spelt correctly. But it will not be this banner. It hangs in the background as we gather in the kitchen. It’s a part of the family now and birthdays would be incomplete without it.
I grab the tape to conduct a medical operation. Sweat drips down my forehead. I bit my bottom lip. The rip of the tape is the right size to fit the incision. I inhale deeply and lower the tape to the surgical site. It is a success! The banner gets to continue living on, at least for another birthday. It shimmers in the background as my mom blows out her birthday candles.