My 60th Birthday Surprise

How Covid threatened to ruin my birthday and how Helen was having none of it!

“Covid! Bloody covid!! Bloody Boris Johnson!! Bloody whole damned world!!” The UK was in total Covid lockdown, again. It all started in March, 2020, but my family thought all this would blow over by the time my birthday rolled around in December. By the beginning of December 2020, we were still in total lockdown and I couldn’t even be around our adult children who lived in the same town as we did.

As I cursed under my breath, it felt cathartic. I was angry, disappointed, and upset that I was no longer going away for my 60^th with my family. Together, my husband, our children and their spouses had planned a week in the Lake District where we would stay at one of Emily Bronte sister’s cottages in the middle of nowhere. Friends would pay surprise visits. We would eat, drink and be merry for an entire week and those whom I adore would lavish me with gifts and love. That sounded like heaven to me, to be surrounded by those who are dearest to me.

Helen knew that my family had planned to take me away for my birthday. She had spoken to my husband one day and asked what he had planned for my 60^th. She was my neighbour, my friend, who way paying attention to my birth milestone. We had known each other for about 20 years by this time and although we did not spend a great deal of time together over the years, or, as they say in England, “live in each other’s pockets”, we were close and had seen each other through many a trial and joy. She was there for me when I went through a cancer diagnosis, offering help, company, meals, a shoulder to cry on. I was there when her daughters left home to make their way in the world, encouraging her to look forward to this next phase in life and being there when she felt down and missed her girls. We’ve planned neighbourhood parties together, hosted those parties together, and have made sure that no one in the neighbourhood was left out. We’ve drunk wine and eaten nibbles in the garden on a beautiful summer’s day. We’ve even checked on each other’s homes when the other was on holiday. Helen is a woman who is supportive and who pays attention.

My family had planned a surprise for me. I’m crazy about surprises, especially the birthday kind. Being treated like a queen for at least one day of the year is something I look forward to and in this family, you’re treated like royalty on the day you blessed the world with your presence. Growing up in a family of 5 siblings, individual attention given by the parents was at a premium. But, I remember that on my birthday, I was given a lot of attention. It was MY special day! Mom made me a special cake and I got a present that was perfect for me. At least one day of the year, I was the centre of attention and I loved it. As my own family grew, we all knew that birthdays were special days. It was your day and everyone would set aside their needs/wants/desires to help fulfil yours. You want a cup of tea? Coming right up. You want pizza for breakfast? That sounds great. You want to watch a film for the umpteenth time? Let’s get the video on! You want to eat cake all day long? Let me slice it for you. On that one day, you didn’t have to feel guilty about asking for what you needed. You didn’t have to worry that you were a bother or that your demands were unreasonable. You could freely ask and freely receive.

But now, Covid was the centre of attention and I resented the heck out of it. Covid had other plans for me. Instead of going away for my birthday, we had to stay home. We couldn’t even gather as a family to have cake! Maybe another year we would go away, my husband promised. I was turning 60 and no one was going to know and no one was paying any attention. I was sorely disappointed, like a child who, yet again, did not get that toy she had asked for. Bloody covid…no!

My husband had tried his best to comfort me by making dinner and giving me a lovely piece of jewellery. But, still dejected and sad, I knew no one was coming by so why bother staying dressed? I got into my pyjamas early that evening. I sat down to watch the telly but was disturbed by someone knocking on the front door. Who dare come by when gathering together outside your ‘bubble’ was prohibited (bloody covid)? My husband ventured to the door, opened it and then called me to come. Someone was here to see me.

On our driveway were all our neighbours, all 20 of them, standing in a semi-circle, a few feet apart and singing a sweet rendition of Happy Birthday. Presenting me with a huge bouquet of flowers, they had come for me, to sing to me, to celebrate me, in all my pyjama glory, just for me. They had risked the bloody covid to let me know how loved I was. I was so incredibly touched by this show of neighbourly love, that I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing then. Even writing about this a few years later, it continues to bring tears of blessings to my eyes.

The real heroine of the story is Helen. It was Helen who informed all the neighbours, sorted out the flowers and made sure it happened. It was Helen who chose to celebrate me, to bless me, to pay attention to me on my important day. I frequently think that the grandest of gestures is the best and most impactful. Go big or go home is often my motto. But Helen has proved me wrong. She knew what birthdays meant to me. Her simple gesture of kindness and friendship profoundly touched me with a real sense of belonging, acceptance and joy. She was paying attention and, often, that is enough.

Thank you so much to my

Write Hearted

colleagues for their invaluable input on this post.