To Be Born

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It is a day of celebration. My last birthday.
I am hungry. There is no more room on the long dining table filled with dishes of heavenly food. The scent of pastry and lemon waters my mouth. I greet faces I have already seen. I kiss their sweaty cheeks and press their tired hands. Aunts and uncles, cousins and even the neighbor’s boy, the orphan who likes to sneak into the house. I cannot remember any of their names as if I had never learned it. Everybody seems happy by my birth. My mother serves me first and let the crowd be aware of my presence. I study details of my plate. Its appetizing perfume penetrates my head, but my mother advised me to wait. I take my first bite once the orphan is served. We share the same seat and each other’s arms and hands to grab the food.
Chicken and plum with saffron rice.
I look at the faceless people around the table, and I memorize their names. I press gently the soft meat and savor its melting texture. The sweet and sour flavor of my mother’s masterpiece engorges my mouth and reminds me of a little piece of happiness. Chewing slowly, I take my forbidden drink and take a sip. I swallow it as slow as possible, to let it be absorbed fully by the flow of my blood, as if I could drag the moment in time. Danny recounts one of my childhood stories and my mother laughs silently while hiding her face beneath her palms.
I do not believe in God. I do not pray. I do not make any wishes before blowing my birthday candle. I do not hope for an eternal heaven. I am not afraid of a burning hell. Still, I know I am just like everyone else. I savor this rare moment of a crowded family dinner and the grasp of my mother’s laughter.
Sirens are silent. War has stopped in this second.
I defy the time on my birthday. I push farther the limits of my human existence through one last bite. I am beyond my own boundaries through this extra candle on the cake. In my dream, I am a rebel against the nothingness.
The orphan lifts his head, pulls my sleeve and smiles at me with his missing front tooth. I smile back, knowing his name. I pass the bread to him and we both taste the joy of ignoring the impossibility of reaching the eternity.

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