I never wrote a birthday post and never even knew this was a thing. Although I’ve been trying to blog since the early 2000s, I guess this trend simply passed me by. At least until this year, when I turn 43 and feel the impulse to pause and mark the moment.
For the third time in a row, I’m spending my birthday in Brazil, even though I live in Italy. Every December, we board a plane for a couple of weeks of a second annual summer, exchanging the freezing Milan for the overwhelming heat of the South American sun.
Coming back is always an intense experience. I wrote a little about it when this vacation period was starting, but being here makes everything sharper.
Beyond the weather, there is an unavoidable clash of cultures happening in my mind. The way people speak and think, what they eat and drink, and what they care about. My tendency to overthink transforms these observations into philosophical, sometimes existential reflections, which can be quietly exhausting. Still, I try to stay light because most of the people here see me only once a year, and they deserve the best version of me, without my inner debates.
Celebrating another summer means noticing more wrinkles, more gray hair, and the subtle realization that running and football demand more effort than before. At the same time, it means suffering less over what lies beyond my control and recognizing what I already have.
How could I not value the Feijoada my mother cooked for me, shared with friends around the table, followed by a coconut-and-chocolate cake my mother-in-law baked with care? All happily savored in an afternoon unfolded under that large mango tree in my parents’ backyard—a silent witness of my life hanging there since we moved in, forty-one years ago.
I don’t need to wait decades to look back and label this as one of those rare moments we experience in life. I can see it now, while I still have it.
I feel anger and sorrow everywhere nowadays—yet, I am a lucky guy. In that poor neighborhood of a small town in Southeast Brazil, on a quiet Saturday afternoon, I clearly noticed Ms. Happiness. She was sitting there along my parents, brothers, friends, and in-laws, sharing a beer, laughing, and joking about the risk of being struck by a fully ripe falling mango.
