Birthdays at boarding school!

On the landing just at the top of the broad, highly polished, red staircase, were two life-sized statues.  The most prominent one was a statue of a seated Mary, dressed all in blue and white, with a dead and bleeding Jesus lying across her lap.  The other, a very benign looking Joseph standing in the corner, placidly surveying the scene.  During the day, one hardly noticed the statues, but at night when the landing was dimly lit and the shadows played across the walls, they took on a whole new dimension.  They always terrified the daylights out of me, and had the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up as I ran past them at full speed. 

Next to the statue of Mary and Jesus was a glass display cabinet filled with all sorts of exciting things one could purchase to give away as birthday gifts.  Crosses and medals and silver chains and strange relics of saints, but best of all, holy cards.  These were cards depicting various biblical scenes.  Jesus disappearing into the clouds, Mary surrounded by angels and pointing to her "immaculate heart", and various saints depicting their particular functions.  For example, I was given a card once with saint Jude for hopeless cases glaring out at me.  I was more than a little peeved by that gross insinuation.

As my birthday approached, so did the excitement begin to well up inside of me.  How many cards would I receive?  Who would remember me?  Would my mother still order the rainbow cake I had become accustomed to receiving each year?  All these questions, and very important ones too.

Walking into the refectory on the morning of my birthday, I could hardly wait to catch a glimpse of my place at the table, to see how it had been decorated.  With my heart swelling in my breast, I spied all the holy cards reassuringly fanned out around my place, and in between, beautifully arranged small flowers of all shapes and colours.  Best of all, my special friend has given me my hearts desire, a gleaming sheath knife in a leather case.  One glance at the bottom of the refectory told me that my mother had not disappointed me. Two large boxes lay on the table.  The rainbow cake ordered from the local Anglo Swiss bakery in the one, with its green grass and farm animals and chocolate fences on top, together with one dozen assorted cream cakes in the other. 

I slowly let go of my breath.  I have been remembered.  I am still loved and appreciated, but best of all, there is a whole year ahead of me before I have to go through the entire doubting process once more.