Episode 7: Amnesia Birthday

I don’t remember, really, how we got to Montecristo National Park, but the plan was clear.  We’d hike up, hammock camp overnight, and then hike to the summit on Monday. 

The summit, called El Trifunio, is one of the more unique places I’d visited to that point.  At the summit of this mountain stood an obelisk where three countries converged.  They share their land and its border—El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala. 

When we got to the top, we weren’t exhausted—I don’t suppose the hike was more than a few hours, but we were hungry.  So when Lance began preparations to boil some water to eat the Central American ravioli I’d bought, I had some time. Some space.  The breeze on top of the mountain cooled the sweat I’d worked up, and not even the fire or the temperature got me warm.  As I tried to decide between the pullover I’d bought in the small market at the base of the mountain or just trying to get warm by the fire, it hit me.

“What day is it?” I asked.

“Monday,” Lance said.

“No, the date.”

We were all American teachers, enjoying our first holy week in a Latin American country.  We lived in San Salvador, but we were due to take the bus to one of the largest Holy Week celebrations in the world:  Antigua Guatemala.  So, Lance’s confusion was understandable.  Was I talking day? Date? Some kind of religious label for the Monday before Easter?

“No, I mean the date.”

“The 24th.”

I rocked back on my heels and realized I had forgotten.

“What?” Lance asked. He noticed my shock.

“Today’s my birthday.”

I was 22 years old.  I was in three Central American countries at the same time, and I forgot my birthday. 

If you’re surprised by this, well, Lance was too.  It’s not a normal thing, to forget your own birthday.  Someone else’s? Sure. Before social media, only really, really nice people remembered your birthday.  But, leave it to me to forget my own. 

That, friends, might be the one major habit that I have that separates Emma and me.  We are alike in all sorts of ways, except when it comes to a party.  I tend to forget them or avoid them or not need them.  Emma, though, she loves a party.  Wants to celebrate.  Looks forward to it all. 

We’re still figuring it out.