To reach the middle of one’s journey is to meet another birthday.

Days flip by like the pages of a book—clatter, clatter, clatter. Every so often, life seems to land on a chapter written with a heavy accent—a milestone that demands we stop and look back at the distance traveled.

Childhood: The Clamorous Beginning

The first birthday that remains vivid in my memory is from my school days. My birthday falls during the first lunar month, right in the heart of the winter break. Back then, everyone was still soaked in the festive spirit of the New Year; one shout was all it took to gather a house full of playmates. My parents hosted a proper banquet at home. I remember my classmates huddling around the dinner table, the air thick with the aroma of home-cooked delicacies and the sound of carefree laughter. I can no longer recall what the cake looked like, or if there was even a ceremony for blowing out the candles. I only remember that happiness then was tangible, collective, and asked nothing of the future.

Youth: The Silent Undercurrent of Upheaval

Years later, my memory hits a strange blank. It was the winter break of my university years. Perhaps, fueled by some restless dream, I had said an early goodbye to the warmth of home.

On that roaring train crossing the Yellow River and heading north, I might have been tucked into a corner of a sleeper berth or squeezed into the clamor of a hard-seat carriage. Clutching TOEFL and GRE vocabulary lists I had only just begun to tackle, I was unknowingly preparing for a life-altering shift. Looking back, many of life’s great turning points arrive with this kind of quiet, unremarkable preparation. It is only in retrospect that we realize those seemingly mundane days—consumed by the silent grind of study—were actually the sweeping prologues to a grander life.

The Turning Point: A Vigil in the Rain

Then came a birthday where the world hit the “pause” button.

The pandemic was raging. Outside, the rain drizzled incessantly; inside, my wife and I were nestled in our small space, passing day after endless day. Back then, the future was a blur. We didn’t know when the masks would come off, when we could return to the office, or when we would ever reunite with family across the ocean.

The rhythm of our lives was set by the clicking of my keyboard as I wrote code and the rustle of pages as my wife prepared her thesis. At the time, those days felt dim and lusterless. Yet, looking back now, I see that those shadows were shot through with the light of persistence. It was that mutual support and self-discipline in the face of hardship that saw us through the winter.

The Present: The Heroism of Ordinary Life

A wanderer for half a lifetime, my birthdays have now become increasingly unremarkable.

There are no parties, no sudden upheavals—only the steady trickle of daily life. I flew home from the Bay Area the day before, and before I could even shake off the grogginess, my birthday began in the early morning light. First, by habit, I checked my phone to ensure work was running smoothly; then, I took my child to soccer practice, watching him run across the green field.

For lunch, the family had a simple bowl of rice noodles. Afterward, we plunged into the crowds at Costco to stock up on the essentials for the week ahead. In the afternoon, I cleared a backlog of chores, and after dinner, I went for a swim at the gym. The cool water washed away the day’s fatigue. Just like that, the day slipped quietly by. This “ordinariness” is no longer the aimless wandering of youth, nor the passive waiting of the pandemic. It is a form of composure—of finding one’s center amidst the complexity of the everyday.

Epilogue

A simple record of this birthday.

From the clamor of childhood to the hustle of my twenties; from the resilience of the past few years to the peace of today. I’ve realized that the “ritual” of life no longer requires an expensive cake or extinguished candles. It is hidden in every moment spent providing for family, every effort made for a better life, and every fleeting second of tranquility.

Having traveled ten thousand miles, the most exquisite find is the normalcy of today.