It’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to


         That’s right! I’ve lived to experience my Thirty Ninth Birthday. The Big 39 this December 6th 2013 of course, some of you with your Grincherous hearts may not care and just so you all know I take no offense. However everybody and I mean everybody that has ever experienced a birthday has a old chapter to finish and a new chapter to begin In their lives. Birthdays are literally and figuratively a uncanny series of hieroglyphics into the lives of each individual that explains who we were and who we are. We came from and where we are going.

          Thou there is a coherence theory about birthdays too, we tend to reflect on the highs and lows of that year. Some have a prosperous birthday filled with a year of laughter and joy that one wish to not end, others have a birthday that we curse the day we were born. I had the latter on December 6th 1998, the year and birthday that the tragic events lead to my unjust arrest, unfair persecution and my current wrongly conviction that landed me on Texas Hellish-Death Row.

         In fact; from 1999 thru 2010 I did not celebrate another birthday. Never told anyone it was my birthday. Did not care if anyone acknowledged my birthday or not. Cause for me, every year my birthday came around it was like pouring gasoline to an aggressive lit fire that emotionally pissed me off all  over again. I didn’t have ‘buyer’s remorse’ nor was my anger an admission of guilt. No. Rather a remembrance of all that I lost. All of the lies told on me just for media convenience. I don’t play victim, but victimization has played me and that honest view pissed me off to the fourth power year after year. Tear after tears. So for the most part I cried each year on my birthday alone.

          For one to grow up and mature logically takes more than having peach fuzz on your genital area (all you young folk out there that ‘think’ they are grown…Pay attention!!! To truly mature, it takes time, Takes a few birthdays to live a little, make mistakes and learn from those mistakes made. Growing up incites a change mentally. In days of old, dogmatism was ideal nature. Maturity can only live in a existence where each person agrees to let dogmatism die. To see the world in an array of colours and not just black and white.  I can truthfully tell you all that; for me my maturity manifested with my interaction’s with friends from all ages, races and nationalities. People who has shown me so much love, that I couldn’t help but to grow to understand that I have a purpose. A deep desire to grow, evolve and embrace a social decorum that surpasses vanilla rhetoric. So, now when my birthday comes around I can enjoy it, and if I should shed tears, my tears are those of ‘joy’. Joy of being alive. My ‘joie de vivre’ moment, because the reality of that night on December 6th 1998, too which my fan base of haters are too immature to accept is; I’m accused of killing two people who were a part of a group of four that was trying to rob and kill me.

         I’m on Death Row; True, I want to be free and sleep in the comforts of my own bed and home. I want to educate my children (and grandchildren) and watch them grow in the now. I want to be there to do for my aging mother. I have many wants that are factually my needs- though you don’t hear me complain much now. I’m not content, nor do I view myself as a schlimazel. I’m highly optimistic and my optimism grows more and more with each upcoming and passing birthday. I get it now, I see beyond self-pity parties, and understand that you blow out candles on your birthday cake and make a wish because you are celebrating that singular moment in time that you can never ever get back. A moment that you have every intention of celebrating again a year later. And within that year you would have grown in some capacity and changed somehow. Children will become teenagers and teenagers will become adults and adults will become elderly. Many phases to ones birthday that will mark evolution upon us all. In hindsight, it’s a Beautiful Thang!

          I can still remember this photo my Mother keeps in her photo album of my fifth birthday. I was a chubby cheek kid (good looking, nonetheless) hovering over this small cake my mom brought from Piggly Wiggly’s deli. It was a white cake with thick icing that still makes my mouth water now that I nostalgically think about it. The candle was shaped into a number 5, marking my fifth birthday. My eyes were closed (making a wish) as I blew out the lit candle.

          Who knew?! Who knew that 34 years from that singular moment  that I’d be alive to make another wish on my birthday. That thought alone tells me “It’s MY BIRTHDAY AND I CAN CRY IF I WANT TO.

Written by Charles Mamou December 2013

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