Birthday Musings: Perspective

I was three years old during the year I was supposed to die. In Viet Nam where I was born, a new brand of baby powder had hit the market, and new parents paid good money for what they thought was a luxury item for their infants. What they didn’t know about the powder manifested weeks later when the children’s ward of the local hospital became chock-full of sick kids suffering from a high fever, coughs, and seizures. The powder seeped through the body like a poison. Weeks into my hospital stay, after countless diagnostic tests, my skin began peeling like a snake, and bed bug bites caused lesions all over my body.

My dad and uncle carried me up and down the hospital floors for tests and treatment. My mom sat with me, talked to me, told me stories, asked me to stay with her. The gravity of the situation hit when the boy in the hospital bed next to mine got wheeled out one night because he did not make it. Someone had lost a son that night, and my mom prayed not to lose a daughter. Somewhere, in the midst of my unconsciousness, I must have heard her plea. I followed the thread of her voice, step by step and inch by inch, and let it lead me back to the land of the living.

In a lot of Asian countries, the elderly are revered for their wisdom and experience after having lived a long and fruitful life. Yet in America, it is a taboo to ask someone (especially women) to give their age, and people shy away from saying how old they are, saying on their birthday that they are “another year younger,” and joking that they have turned an age at least a decade younger than their actual age. Wrinkles, fine line, gray hair—all reasons to freak out.

I have a different perspective on aging, and I'm reminded of it in the things that I love. I love the color purple. I love how the smell of homemade food imparts a sense of comfort and nostalgia within me. I love autumn walks on crispy fallen leaves that have turned brilliant shades of crimson and gold. I love the scent of the ocean, the roar of the waves, the warmth of the California sun, the feeling of fine sand eking between my toes. A lot of people bemoan turning another year older. Today, I celebrate the gift of life and the fortune of having been given a second chance at it, to continue discovering new things to love. Whether I am celebrating among a big group of loving friends and family or have some quiet time to reflect in solitude, on a day like today, I think about how I lived when I should have died, and I wish myself, "Happy birthday."