Growing up, birthdays in my family were never about big parties. We didn’t do balloons or clowns. What we did was to attend the Holy Mass in gratitude, then share a simple merienda at home with my parents, siblings, cousins and playmates. That was the rhythm I got used to, and it shaped how I saw birthdays.
Maybe that’s why even as an adult, I’ve always treated my own birthdays as ordinary days. No fuss, just business as usual. A quiet prayer in the morning, then the rest of the day moving along like any other. I also made sure I got to attend Mass. Good thing that for many years, my office in Makati was just walking distance from the Greenbelt Chapel and attending the eucharist was always accessible.
Even when offices offered birthday leaves, I never took them. I felt no need to mark the day differently. For me, it was enough to keep the routine steady.
Friends, of course, had other ideas. Over the years they encouraged me to celebrate, and at first I protested—politely—holding on to the habit of keeping birthdays simple. I would explain that I was used to treating the day like any other. But the more they insisted, the more I realized my friends weren’t asking for grand parties. They just wanted to celebrate with me. And who was I to say no to that? Sometimes, letting others honor you is part of friendship too, and in saying yes, I also honored them.
Over time, my friends also learned to compromise with me. They respected my no‑party preference, and instead we agreed on intimate dinners. These weren’t always on the exact day itself but before or after, spread across November whenever our schedules allowed. Since we are all busy, we found common times, and those gatherings became their own kind of tradition.
So, in recent years, birthdays have become a mix of small dinners and get‑togethers. Nothing extravagant, but enough to remind me that the day doesn’t have to pass unnoticed.
This year was a bit different. At first, I hesitated when a group of friends invited me to go out of town somewhere in Mindanao and spend my birthday weekend at an exclusive resort. It turned out to be one of the most enjoyable birthdays I’ve had in a long time. Sun, sea, laughter, and the kind of company that makes you feel grateful.
As I write this, more intimate gatherings are lined up for November. Different sets of friends mean different schedules, so the gatherings stretch out. Each one carries its own flavor of warmth, and I find myself appreciating how friendships have matured over time.
Through it all, I keep returning to gratitude. The Mass I grew up with remains my anchor, reminding me that birthdays are first and foremost about giving thanks—for life, for family, for the people who walk with me. That ritual grounds me, even as the celebrations evolve.
Birthdays, I’ve come to realize, are not just markers of age. They are reminders of time passing, of relationships deepening, of the quiet transformations we undergo year after year. What once felt like just another date has become a gentle pause in the calendar. It has given me a chance to remember, to share, and to look ahead with hope.
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