My Birthday Celebration

in #hive-1484413 years ago

Good day hivers. I would love to share how I spent my birthday.

The day started on an amazing note. I woke up to the sound of heavy rain, which was right around 2 am. It was raining heavily, I thought my room would get flooded. My grandmother once said when I was younger, that when it rains on the day of a celebration it was a sign of blessings being showered upon the celebrants. You cannot imagine my excitement; I wanted to stay awake to absorb the sound of the storm, but I couldn’t. I had to go to sleep as I had a long day ahead.

I woke up later at 8 am, my phone ringing loud enough to rouse me from good sleep. It was a Sunday and I tend to sleep in till 9 am, so my first thought was ‘I can’t believe I forgot to turn off my alarm’. It was not the alarm. An old friend of mine that I had not spoken to in a while was calling to wish me a Happy Birthday. From there, my day progressed in a flurry of calls and text messages.
At 10:30 am, I had to leave my hostel room to make it in time to meet the guy I have been seeing for about two months (I’ll leave him anonymous). He said he had a surprise waiting. I know a surprise is not a surprise if you know about it. However, if you don’t know what the surprise is, can you not get surprised?
There was a lot of traffic as I made my way from Mukono to Kampala, to a little café on Jinja Road, Café Javas, which has been our meeting point from the start. I arrived earlier than he did and I decided to order an iced tea while I waited. He arrived about 5 minutes later. We caught up on our week as we had our drinks and thereafter had to start our journey. As we were leaving, I saw a display of white forest cake. When I told him of my intention to get it, he said no. My heart almost stopped; no cake on my Birthday? That is unheard of. But I allowed him to plan the day.

He was acting so mysterious the entire journey. At last, we arrived at an amazing restaurant, Yamasen, in the plains of Namuwongo, another Kampala suburb.

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It was tastefully decorated in accents and curios that gave it an old Japanese vibe. We were taken to our table by the wait-staff assigned to it, given our menus and left to choose what we were to eat and drink. It was hard to make a choice when everything looked and sounded delicious. The food lovers can attest to that. I ended up choosing a Chicken teriyaki, while he chose a bowl of steamed rice to be served with a pork dish (I am not a fan of pork, forgive me for not really remembering that detail).

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He was so unsettled the entire time, standing up periodically, taking mysterious phone calls. At two points while having our meal, when he stood up, I was half tempted to grab his phone and switch it off (he ate the rest of his meal cold, in the end). When our plates were taken away, I noticed our server, his supervisor, and everyone on our side of the restaurant acting weird. The gleeful smiles told me something was about to happen. What I did not expect was the cake to be placed right in front of me and the joyful clapping and singing of the birthday song. I looked at him in shock. All the running around turned out to be him getting everything in his surprise perfect.

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After cutting the cake, we left the restaurant at 5 pm, proceeding to see my second mother, where we continued with the celebrations. We then proceeded to another location, which I cannot disclose unfortunately, where we chatted (cannot tell you about what either).

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I have to say, this was one of my best birthdays ever. I spent it with the people I love, and doing things that I love (yohan, thank you for your patience). In the end, I did get shocked. It was such a thoughtful and beautiful surprise for the day. Thank you

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Electronic-terrorism, voice to skull and neuro monitoring on Hive and Steem. You can ignore this, but your going to wish you didnt soon. This is happening whether you believe it or not. https://ecency.com/fyrstikken/@fairandbalanced/i-am-the-only-motherfucker-on-the-internet-pointing-to-a-direct-source-for-voice-to-skull-electronic-terrorism

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