Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

What? For me?

We all know that blog about my birthday all of the time, usually morose reflections on the birthday that could should would disappoint.

At the end of the day, I’m a neglected kid with abandonment issues who still doubts the wisdom of her actual birth.

Consequently, I am a wonderland for birthday anxiety. In fact, what I wouldn’t give for 18 years of memories with low key family dinners, a Betty Crocker cake, and a simple reasonable gift. Ritual, reliability, remembrance.

Fast forward to today. My birthday is a Tuesday so I’ll likely order a wee cake, ask a neighbor to drive me to pick it up, maybe go to trivia night, maybe watch ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and eat cake in bed.

Then I got this card in the mail.

I redacted some information. But it’s seasonal and festive. There are cat stickers on the reverse side. It is everything you could want in a late-October birthday card.

I know who sent it, but I don’t know, know them. This means someone really does care that I was born, someone who doesn’t even know me. Who doesn’t assess my value as an activist, blogger, social worker, cat folx or any of the other things I do to feel valuable.

Someone who has no expectations that I’ll write back or muster up energy for an outing. Someone who simply blew a little magic into my life via a card.

It is magic. It is resting on my altar until the day arrives. I look at it daily, feeling the smooth paper and the slight resistance of the card just bursting to spread the joy.

In fact, I am terrible at remembering birthdays. I put them in my calendar and forget to look. Some days, it’s trauma brain. Some days, it’s depression and barely having energy to function. So I don’t have any business feeling forgotten or overlooked on my end.

Still … this card. I hope you will consider sending a card to someone in your life. Someone without parents or in a tough family situation. Someone who deserves to be remembered simply for who they are right now.

A someone who could use a little magic.