Birthday Lunch
Updated: Nov 15, 2021
I was supposed to go my mothers house for lunch today
Only
I really didn’t want to
It was supposed to be a celebration
A celebration for me
I was turning 29
Somewhere between young and old
Somewhere between birth and death
I would’ve preferred going to a restaurant for lunch
Neutral territory
But nope
I was headed to her castle
She had the advantage there
She had the high ground
If I spoke my mind
If I expressed what I was really feeling
If I told the truth
She would kick me out
And
I’d ruin her lunch
No one wanted that drama
And boy could she be dramatic
She would make me pray before eating
She expected me to pretend I wanted to participate in the chanting of these magic words
We would all hold hands
Close our eyes
Bow our heads
And someone would say a few magic words
I stopped bowing my head and closing my eyes years ago
I didn’t understand why she made others participate in this
Why couldn’t she pray to herself?
Why did I have to be asked to play along with her delusions?
She knew how I felt
She knew where I stood
We had argued many many times
Ever since I was a little kid
I questioned her God
She expected me to play along anyways
This didn’t seem fair
Like a lack of respect
She didn’t care what I believed in
It didn’t matter
I’d be in her house
Her territory
Pretending to talk to her God
I didn’t care if she practiced her magic in front of me
I just didn’t want to be asked pretend to believe what she believed
Why couldn’t we do our own thing?
The people that wanted to pray
They would bow their own heads
Close their own eyes
And chant their own magic words
And I could eat
I wanted to say something
‘Chester, what do you want for your birthday this year?’
‘I want to go to a restaurant, have a drink and not be asked to fake it.’
‘To fake what?’
‘To fake it all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t want to pretend to pray.’
This is where the drama would start
Just by being honest
Just by respecting my own beliefs
My own mind
But no
If I said this
She would take it personal
It’d be like I punched her in the gut
She’d probably cry
And I’d sit there
They’d say that I was ungrateful
disrespectful
She made all this food
And made us gather at her house
And I didn’t appreciate it.
Such bullshit
I really didn’t care what she believed in
I just didn’t want to be asked to join
That was fair, wasn’t it?
I’d never ask her to pretend that she didn’t believe what she believed
So why should she ask me to fake it?
To fake it for her sake?
Why did she always have to push her beliefs onto me?
I didn’t do that to her
I knew why she did
She thought I’d burn in hell if I didn’t fake it
And
She couldn’t stand the idea of her least favorite child burning in hell
‘Just chant your magic words to yourself
And understand
I’m on my own journey
I have my own beliefs
My own way of thinking
Don’t force me to do anything I don’t believe in
Because
I think that’s fuckeed up
Forcing others to practice your religion
It’s cruel
It’s not right
You can pray for me
Just don’t pray with me’
I wish I could say this
But instead
I’ll fake it
Fake it all
I’ll pretend I want to be there
I’ll pretend like I care
I’ll pretend like the magic words mean something
I’ll pretend to laugh
I’ll pretend to be happy
I’ll pretend that it’s a fun celebration of another year for me on this small spinning rock that we are all temporarily stuck on together
If she ever reads my writings
She might write me out of her will
Oh well
I never cared about her money
The money she now has from her new husband
I remember growing up broke as shit
With her getting drunk on wine every night
Clothes from goodwill
Food donations from the church
We got by
Somehow
And she hated being poor
Being middle class now definitely suited her
If she ever respected me
Then we might be able to have a relationship
But for now
I’ll be the fake son she wishes she had.
Happy birthday to me.