I think I can remember the turtle cake, the worm and alligator ones too. Or maybe photographs have imprinted themselves onto my mind over the years; pictures made vivid memories by virtue of looking at them repeatedly and hearing their tandem tales.

It begs the question of what memory is, really. Lived experiences that you clearly remember? Those you've been told about for so long they feel real? Tidbits that surface from the deepest recesses of your brain in dreams or at odd times in odd places?

Perhaps it doesn't matter, perhaps memory is the sum total of all that.

The birthday cakes I remember were lovingly hand-crafted and bedecked with all manner of licorice whip and shaped gummy—candy serving as eyes, scales, noses and tails to make the two-dimensional concoctions come to life.

Even though the photos have yellowed and faded since first developed, I can still see the love shimmering in them. Thank you McCall's Magazine for the designs and Nanny for clipping and sending them to Mom. Thank you Mom for recreating them for me.

my 1st birthday; how did mom make that avo-green icing??

In old albums, a faint story line unfurls. Mom cut her hair at some point after she had me. Just before which party was Elia born? Did I like the cakes? How many did each feed? Who came to the parties? What did we do? There are balloons in some shots. Everyone is smiling.

Those details are blurry images on my mind's horizon, but when I think of birthdays, I feel happy. I was loved. Emphatically so.

That is why I continue to anticipate my birthday and those of my loved ones with such fizzy gusto. It is certainly why I recreated the alligator cake for Jack’s first birthday –even though he wouldn’t eat a bite- and why I have delighted in crafting magical cakes and parties for every birthday the boys have had since.

Even the pets are fêted. Until Percy got older and needed to watch his weight, we celebrated his birthdays with Frosty Paws, because what is more delightful than watching a quivering pug go to town on a tiny cup of dog ice cream, his snout pushing the container across the floor while his paws and tongue try desperately to keep up.

Birthdays are, at their most essential, a time to bask in love and appreciation. YOU came into the world at a moment in time, and forever after, everything is a bit changed. At least, that’s how I want to feel on my birthday and how I want my children to grow up experiencing theirs. Jack and Oliver are so wanted, loved, and valued and I like the idea of dedicating one whole day each year to commemorating their place in our world. They are loved. Emphatically so.

Mine might seem an awfully idealistic conception of birthdays, and yet I hold on to that pure sense of what one day a year can be. A celebration of self spun from sugar, love, and others' appreciation of you.

This is a Finish the Sentence Friday post, in response to the prompt, "When I think of birthdays..." Hosts this week are: Kristi of Finding Ninee, Mimi of Mimi Time, and Stacey of This Momma's Ramblings.