Spring is always a busy time for my family. We have my older brother Bradley's birthday the end of March and my birthday following three weeks later; plus, somewhere in there is Easter.
This year Bradley (who I mentioned before is autistic) is turning 26 and I'll be following two years behind him.
I've already been having a bit of anxiety about this birthday. It will be my first “boring” birthday. Every birthday, even my 19th (drinking age in Ontario) was spent with my family and closest friends.
And since graduating from university, knowing that musical chairs and party hats were now expired, I expected my birthdays to be a little less dramatic. Still, this didn't stop me from counting down to my special day at least 100 days in advance.
However, the past two years I have spent my birthday on a tropical, sandy beach, with a delicious cocktail in hand. It wasn't really planned out that way but it just so happened that spring was a good time for fresh grads and reporters to vacation.
Both years were filled with family: the first year with my family in the Dominican and the second with my in-laws in Ecuador.
This year, if I want a sandy beach I'll have to shovel the snow at the Bonnyville beach and hope I don't get frostbitten.
Also, like any young adult, 25 years old is sort of the be all and end all of birthdays. After that, you're definitely a “grown up.”
But what I didn't realize was that my older brother was also having some anxiety about his upcoming birthday.
Being autistic, we normally see and treat him as a child. Not to belittle him but just because that's sort of the way he acts and we want him to feel special, as he is.
But for Bradley, I believe he sees himself as a man reaching his late-20s.
I guess his turning 26 has put a damper on his usual birthday excitement. Every time I mention our birthdays, he suddenly gets angry and no longer wants to talk.
Every year, we get to write on the whiteboard in mom's kitchen what we request for our birthday meal. We get to choose the main course, any sides or starters, our drink, and (of course!) the dessert.
These will be big shoes for my boyfriend, Chris, to fill this year with mom being a few provinces away.
Most years, Bradley chooses spaghetti with chocolate milk. And every year since I can remember, his dessert has been chocolate cake with chocolate icing.
This year, the whiteboard is still empty. Not even a wish list of gifts, filled with Nascar remote-control cars, puppets, dollar store cap guns or other noisemakers.
Usually on his birthday, Bradley is so excited that he is shaking with joy as he opens the gifts. Even a plain pair of shorts leaves Bradley shouting, “Oh, cooool! Shorts!”
Not this year.
Perhaps my anxiety has rubbed off on him. Or perhaps he wishes his little sister would be home for his birthday and Easter this year.
But more than likely, he's just growing up. And just like the rest of us, birthdays are much less fun without musical chairs, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, party hats and noise-makers.
