It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything like a birthday party.  I had one when I turned 41.

Let’s visit a local restaurant for dinner.  Surprise, the back room was filled with friends and family. Waitresses brought out steaming trays of chicken wings and steak tips, pasta with two different kinds of sauce, and a platter of fresh crüdites and dip .  Later a big cake appeared.  Someone lit the dozens of candles and everyone sang “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Bob.”  My daughter and the other kids hovered close to the flickering candles and helped me blow out the candles.

A few people got me presents; a tie that looked like a fish from Alex. Chelise and Brad bought me a gift certificate to Guitar Center. Alan and his wife gave me a framed collage of photos of me through the years – most of which he grabbed from my FB page and printed out.  And, my eldest daughter presented me with a slab of plaster with her handprints and the words “I love you daddy.”

I never asked for it, but it was a great gift.  I cherished the gifts and the memory.

The following birthdays have been steadily less memorable. I tell myself as an adult, as a middle-aged man its OK, I don’t need a party. I don’t need pomp and circumstance. I don’t need presents. I guess I really don’t “need” anything, but … need is not want.

A few years ago, my eldest daughter asked me what kind of cake I wanted. I had just read an online recipe for a cardamom cake. The pictures looked exotic and delicious.  Want, not need. She looked confused. I assumed I’d get a grocery store chocolate cake with my the words “Happy Birthday” spelled out in blue frosting. Best to keep expectations low and not be disappointed. Surprises happen, occasionally. I got that cake I asked for … and it was as delicious as I’d imagined. My children declared it “too spicy” and wouldn’t touch it. Their mother politely accepted only the thinnest of thin slices and flatly told me it was my cake and I should eat it (alone). Message received loud and clear.

This year I sit at the table with my daughters who stare across the flickering candles and insist I make a wish. “Don’t tell anyone your wish,” says the youngest seriously. “If you tell, it won’t come true.” Truth. The candles flicker. What to wish for? In years past I knew. I was so certain.  This year … I’m now all too aware of the old adage “be careful what you wish for …”

The candles flicker. Wax drips down their shrinking length onto the white frosting. The youngest leans over and tugs on my sleeve. “You’re gonna lose your wish!” She’s concerned I’m passing up a rare opportunity to have what my heart desires most in life. Will you help me? On the count of three we blow out the candles, all seven of them. “I want a big slice!” she announces bouncing up and down. A little later, she leans over. “What did you wish for?” she whispers. “You can tell me.” I shake my head. Everybody knows you can’t reveal your wish or it’ll never come true.

It’s now a month later, and I still haven’t decided what I want most in life.