We were born a day apart, on November 15th and November 16th, and if you’ve studied astrology for even half an hour you know that Scorpios barely stand a chance with any of the other signs let alone with each other.
“We were born a day apart, on November 15th and November 16th, and if you’ve studied astrology for even half an hour you know that Scorpios barely stand a chance with any of the other signs let alone with each other. But even if you haven’t studied astrology then at least you understand that we must have celebrated our birthdays back to back. We were both very literal about the dates, so there was no let’s just celebrate both of them together on the Saturday before or after like any reasonable astrological sign would do.
Your birthday started and ended at midnight. And she always got depressed the day after her birthday (“because it’s over”), and for the two and a half years and three birthdays that we spent together we’d have an annual argument on the 16th about her ruining my birthday every fucking year. This never did get resolved, but you should also know that my birthday was not actually ruined three times, but this was how two Scorpios communicate with each other once they really get good and going and all warmed up.
Wipe your tears! Wipe your tears! You really don’t need to feel so terrible for me! My birthdays were just fine with cards and candy and little bags of marijuana she’d tied in curly red ribbon and gummy bears and the devil knows what else arriving in makeshift origami pouch pockets with SweeTarts taped to the outside and Bic pen smiley faces.
All your typical birthday touches.
In the twenty plus years that we haven’t seen each other or spoken I still always stop and think of her on the 15th. And if I do actually forget and it’s a few days before I remember then I’m more likely to stop for a much longer moment, and find myself thinking about our whole time together and how far apart we are now, and I wonder what the fuck exactly happened back there and went so incredibly wrong, although the birthday presents may be a clue.”
– From Chapter 7 “Tiny Dancer” of Walking Backwards (A journey of a thousand miles on the Camino de Santiago)
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