The Imaginary Birthday

Hi my dear friend,

A little while ago 
I was driving somewhere 
between one errand 
and the next…

When all of a sudden 
I was about five years old.

I already knew
what this memory was about. 
It was a familiar little moment 
that quite often pops 
into my head.

But there I was… 
Getting ready to celebrate 
my friend on his birthday. 

He had only told us that day 
that he's having a party at home. 
And that all of his friends should 
come in the afternoon.

I remember how my sister and I 
rushed back home to tell our mom 
we had a party to attend. 

And how 
she quickly got us into 
our pretty dresses. 

And redid the hair 
that was already showing 
a morning's worth of play.

I don't remember us having 
any big presents… 
But we did bring flowers 
and a waffle cake.

So there we were, 
my sister and I, 
standing by his front door 
with all our friends… 

When his mom slowly 
opened it halfway…
And told us all to 
go home.

Turns out my friend 
had lied. 

It wasn't his birthday. 
There was no party. 
It had all been just a story… 
Something he had simply 
made up.

Looking back, 
knowing everything I do now… 
I feel a lot of kindness and empathy 
for that little boy who just wanted, 
on that day, 
to celebrate an imaginary birthday 
with his closest friends.

But back then 
it just felt like a set up… 

A cheap trick I had fallen for. 
A punishment for being naive 
and not realising sooner that 
none of it was truly real.

To be honest, 
I don't remember 
what happened after that. 

We must have gotten home 
and told our mum all about it. 
But none of it has stayed.

Just this memory 
of standing by the door… 
Feeling utterly humiliated. 

As if I had done 
something wrong.

And that moment 
followed me throughout 
my life.

It taught me to hold back. 
To think twice before showing up 
with my whole heart.

And it made me 
feel naked and vulnerable 
everytime I had something heartfelt 
or meaningful to give. 

And here it was again, 
replaying itself in 
my memory.

But this time 
I didn't push it away.
In fact, I decided to play 
with it instead. 

To give it 
a different ending.
One where we actually 
got to go in.

So I imagined 
pressing that doorbell. 
And being welcomed in 
with a kind smile. 

I imagined us 
eating the waffle cake, 
and playing all the imaginary 
games we used to play. 

But above it all, 
I imagined that little girl laughing 
and having so much fun.

And in 
that moment…

I gave my body 
a different experience 
of how that day could 
have gone.

With love,
Elina Janevica

Artwork / Leo Primavesi, “Sleeping Girl on a Chair” (fragment), c. 1896 / personal collection