That year, I looked forward to the fact that I'd mark my birthday on the 8th of August, 2008. That is 08/08/08. Backstory: things got twisted and my family usually marked my birthday on the 8th of August, or so I think.

When the anticipated year 2008 came, my eldest brother suddenly decided to confirm my DOB from the birth certificate. Turns out I was born on the 7th day and not the 8th. Bursted! I was left to nurse a private disappointment.

I sometimes doubt this memory. I wonder if it happened, or my imagination cooked it up. When distant thoughts become covered in the dust of our minds, we begin to question their reality.

Like folklore, my mother would narrate the ordeal she went through during my birth and the fact that the family couldn't celebrate my 1st birthday, as was customary. The reason being that I was the sick child.

They eventually got around celebrating my 4th year and there's this enlarged photo in our living room that has me looking lost yet surrounded by many kids and my hands carefully placed on a cream coloured cake with spots of green.

My mother believes that all years don't rank the same. This is quite synonymous with the idea of milestone years; that some ages were more important than others.

Without meaning to start an argument; I do not believe that some ages are more important. In fact, I believe that every year is a milestone year. Just getting by the previous to another set of 365 is nothing short of a miracle.

But back to my history class.

A decade later, I'd be receiving my next and I dare say, first 'conscious' cake at 14. It came from my sister and brother-in-law. I recall being so pleased to see my name scrawled across a cake. It felt like an acquired possession of some sort. I still recall the vanilla flavour of the butter cream. I guess that's the point my undying love for birthday cakes, candle lights and all things birthdays began.

Cut to the present day.

This year, I had no cake. In fact, I had no specific plans. My birthday was subsumed by this work trip/conference we were all planning towards…but you know what?

Friends and family started sending gifts two days before my birthday. My best girl, Sylvia opened the show with a delivery.

You know all these, "hello ma'am, we have a delivery for you" kinda calls? I received a ton consecutively. They made me feel the excitement of a Cinderella dressed in yellow running outside to kiss a fellow.

This month, I received the highest number of gifts I've ever received in all my years of existence. I received flowers from Joy and funds of affirmation from my girl friends. I received skin care products that looked more like ice cream, I was so reluctant to waste them on my body.

A week before my birthday, I did something a little differently. I didn't care about my usual false humility. I scribbled my wishlist on Notion. For context, the idea of a birthday wishlist is foreign to me. I usually thought it was the reserved right of my well-travelled American friend, Aniekan.

I also sometimes thought it came off as begging. Lol. Please don't judge me.

But yeah, penning down my wishlist made me confront my desires. Observing my people go around ticking items off the list left me with this positive feeling that words can't explain. Even scriptures affirm that watching a dream come true gladdens the heart.

The sights of the gifts reminded me of the different flavours of love. I received thoughtful gifts. I received gifts I loved. I received shoes. Guys, I rarely get shoes. If you know me, you can tell I can wear one pair of heels for 320 days in a year.

For a minute, I felt like my 14-year-old niece who was elated that her parents got most of the items on her wishlist. My inner child was over the moon with excitement.

I'm saying all these things to say this – Please let's bring back the culture of gifting. Let's not normalise always asking people to wash* their birthdays.

Birthdays are once-in-a-year moments to pause and celebrate the presence of any human. It's a unique day to honour them and not bill them.

Please send your friends gifts. Send them money. Buy them meals. Remind them all they mean to you. Not just on their birthdays but on random days. On Christmas Day. On a random Sunday afternoon. Adulthood is rough and in this hood, receiving love simply softens our adulty experiences.

Postscript: You don't have to break the bank to show some love. The thoughts counts may sound cliché but it's true. Thoughts and creativity count.

I'll end by saying that life has a deadline. When we work with this in mind, we will find ourselves seizing every chance to love.

Our mission on the earth is to love. To love our God and those He's placed around us. How can we even love a God we cannot see, when we don't love those He's placed in our lives?

August Wraps

📖Sahil Bloom's issue on the Last Time Principle really struck a chord. They'd always be a last time to show love.

🎧 I listened to Ezinne Zara's pod with Salem King on how social media isn't a safe space. I also tuned into the Growing and Glowing podcast by AyoOluwa. Her soothing voice is therapeutic. I discovered the gem in the person of Leke Alder. And a bonus track from the Upper Room + Chandler More: You hold it all together. It's been on replay.

📺 I did a throwback by seeing some award-winning animations from Pixar. I watched Up and Inside Out. Then rewatched Ratatouille.

Quite interesting that these animations all hold jokes and inspiration. AI helps with my weekly movie selection. All I do is describe the type of movie I'll love to see and ask for recommendations. So far, it's been doing great.

The ember months are here and I'll be the first to wish you the best of them. Here's to a life full of love and the pursuit of purpose.

*Washing a celebration is a slang we use when we want people to buy us food or drinks on their birthdays.

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