29

"29," Harai said this morning. Not good morning, not how are you, not you look nice today. "29." And then: "Why are you smiling?"
"Because it's my 29th birthday."
"You should not be smiling."
"But I love birthdays."
"At your age, you're not supposed to be happy about them."
"Why not?"
"Because every year you are getting older."
"But, Harai," I pointed out, handing him a birthday doughnut, "I am also getting cleverer, happier and richer. And that totally cancels out the old part."
He scowled at me.
"You're just like Princess Diana," he told me: "she said that too." Which temporarily wiped the smile off my face.

In 29 years, I have never had a better birthday. I woke up to my family, which I haven't done since I was a child: spoke to my sister and her brand new puppy and my dad on webcam, and my mum via dad's mobile phone held up to the microphone, all while lying in bed under the duvet. I ate chocolate for breakfast. I opened presents and chucked the wrapping all over my bed. I thanked my dad for my imaginary Olympus camera, which has yet to turn up. And then I took myself to school, gatecrashed the Kindergarten with a bag of candy and got more love and cuteness than any 29 year old can possibly handle: 36 five year olds, standing neatly with their hands together (and sometimes smacking each other, which added to the performance) and singing/shouting "Happy Birthday" in broken English. They then threw themselves at me and covered me in "I love you"s and "Happy birthday"s and "I want a cuddle"s and "Holly Sensei, I saw an elephant on the television and it was grey and pooing"s until I couldn't move or breathe without a kiss being enthusiastically planted on an area of my face or hands.

My favourite 13 year old student made me a card, perfectly written in English, telling me that "you make me so happy when you speak to me," and gave me a little heart keyring. A gaggle of ten year olds all drew identical pictures of me as a yellow haired manga standing next to huge amounts of cake and then clustered around the staff room because they were too embarrassed to give me them. A member of staff I have never spoken to found out it was my birthday and went to the shops at lunch to buy me a cake. And all day long, my friends from all over the world sent me messages.

This evening, I met with ten of my closest friends for dinner, and didn't stop laughing: was showered with the most thoughtful, beautiful, amazing gifts. Harai bought me a little music box that plays the one Japanese song I can sing; Shin and Miyuki bought me a little gothic doll and a tripod for my imaginary camera; Naho and Julian bought me an incredible handbag to replace the piece of crap I carry around at the moment. Yuki baked me a cake without egg in it, because I hate cake. Yoshiko bought me a box of cheese, because I love cheese. And they all gave them with so many cheers, and so much enthusiasm, that my cheeks hurt. And then they paid for my dinner.

I'm 29 today, and yes: I'm older. I have one year left until I'm thirty, and in the race of life I'm many, many laps behind where I probably should be. But I don't care. It was the best birthday I've ever had, and I was just where I wanted to be: albeit, without the family I wish could have shared it with me.

Cleverer, happier and richer. As far as cards go, they trump older any day. And if my 29th year continues the way it started, it's going to be a very good one.

And I cannot wait.