I have never seen a birthday cake, nor have I ever blown out candles. It’s a thought that lingers in my heart, quietly whispering of something I can’t fully understand. As a blind cat, the world around me is a soft blend of smells, sounds, and textures, but there is one thing I have never experienced—the bright glow of candles on a cake, the joy of a celebration meant just for me.
I remember hearing others talk about birthdays, how they gather around a table, with colorful decorations, laughter filling the air. I hear the clinking of glasses and the sweet sound of happy voices singing a song that I don’t quite know. They say it’s to celebrate another year of life, of love, and of companionship. They say it’s a time to feel special, to be the center of attention, to feel cherished. But I’ve never had that. I’ve never been the one to receive those warm wishes or to blow out a candle and make a wish.
For as long as I can remember, life has been quiet and solitary. I was born on the streets, in the cold, unfamiliar world of the alleyways. My eyes never opened to the beauty of the world; instead, I learned to navigate through life by listening carefully to the rustle of the leaves, the rhythm of footsteps, and the soft whispers of the wind. But there is so much I can’t know. I can’t see the faces of those who pass by, nor can I ever experience the colors of the world—the colors of love, of joy, of celebration.
When I think about birthdays, I imagine them in a way that only my heart can feel. I imagine being surrounded by soft, loving voices, those gentle strokes on my fur, and the warmth of a home where I’m cherished. I imagine a cake—perhaps a small one, just for me—something sweet, with a light, delicate smell. I imagine a flicker of light that comes from a candle, its warmth gentle on my fur. And I imagine, just for a moment, that I am special. That I am not invisible. That I am loved.
But reality has often been different. I was never adopted as a kitten. I was always left behind, in the shelter, waiting for someone to choose me, to give me the love I longed for. The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. My fur grew dull, and my heart felt heavy with the weight of forgotten dreams.
Yet, I still hold on to that quiet hope. Maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there who will see me—not for my blindness or my quiet existence—but for the love I have to give. Maybe one day, I’ll feel the joy of having a birthday celebration, where I am the one in the spotlight, surrounded by people who care for me. I want to know what it feels like to blow out a candle and make a wish, to feel like I belong to someone, to have a place in this world.
For now, I may not have the sight to see a birthday cake or the ability to blow out a candle, but I have a heart full of dreams. I may never see the flicker of a candle, but I can feel the warmth of love, even if it’s only in my heart. And perhaps, that’s enough for now. I’ll keep dreaming of that day when I, too, can feel special. Until then, I hold on to the hope that one day, I’ll be seen, and my heart will be filled with the joy of simply being loved.
So, while I may never see a birthday cake or blow out candles, I believe that love, even if it is unseen, is the most beautiful gift of all. And maybe, that’s the celebration I’ve been waiting for.
