Birthdays come and birthdays go, and the older we get, the more precious the opportunities to celebrate become.

So when my close friend, and mother to my precious godson Donncha, announced her roundy party plans, I marked them very firmly in my diary.

It was to be a rare day out for the birthday girl and her friends, busy as they all are, juggling careers and children. Trying to find time for parents and partners, as they search for that elusive work-life balance.

Keeping all those brightly coloured balls in the air leaves little room for anything, or anyone, else.

During this hectic time of life, it feels like the only birthday cake you eat is the remnants of the squashed slice your little one brings home from the parties they attend.

The fun began months in advance, with a WhatsApp group created for the occasion. Former school and college classmates, and friends and neighbours from childhood and more recent times, all coming together in one lively online chat. Tying together the many threads in the colourful tapestry of our mutual friend’s life.

College days

To some, she was the-school pal of scraped knees and whispered secrets, while others shared her memories of college days. More recent friends knew her as the school-gate mum of three small boys and the woman they met for cold, interrupted coffee as their children played at their feet.

With old friendships rekindled and new ones ignited, we got to know each other, too. Some of us had met previously at christenings or funerals, weddings or housewarmings. Those who hadn’t felt they knew each other anyway, through the six degrees of separation that is social media.

Hundreds of messages later, the day dawned, bringing the sun with it, and her nearest, dearest and oldest – although not necessarily wisest – friends all came together in a small, beautiful seaside town.

With ‘where are you?’ ‘almost there,’ ‘running a little late,’ and ‘can’t wait to see you!’ texts lighting up our phone screens, and location pins dropping on google maps, we giddily made our way to the venue.

Gregarious gatherings

Apologising with our smiles, we borrowed chairs from neighbouring tables, scraping their legs across tiled floors, as our group grew larger and louder. Becoming one of those gregarious gatherings that either irritates you when they throw themselves down beside you, or perhaps that you look on with envy, wishing you had been invited too.

Once we had dispensed with the introductions and updates – the partners and their projects, the smallies and their ailments, and the woman three doors down who was taking the children out of school and heading off around the world in a camper van – we started putting the world to rights.

First over coffee and cake, which, as day bled into night, became champagne over candlelight. The mandatory bunch of balloons bobbing in our midst, getting in the way, and narrowly escaping being popped by the pointed, plastic tiara we insisted she wear.

Words tumbling over each other, conversation flowing with dizzying speed, everyone scrambling to find the words to bridge all those missed months and milestones.

As we knew they would, the few precious stolen hours passed far too quickly, and before we knew it, we were hugging goodbye, exchanging phone numbers and instagram names, and promising, with a hope that belied expectation, that we would do this again – very soon!

Photographs

We were not leaving empty-handed though, but taking with us a reminder of the women we still are. The women hidden, for now, beneath life’s many layers and our busy roles as mothers and daughters, partners and creators. An important reminder, too, of the friendships, and shared experiences, that have brought us this far, and that will be waiting for us in life’s next chapter.

The WhatsApp group will soon be archived, but for now the photographs are still trickling in. The images of the tightly-tied balloons, and the beaming, tiara-wearing birthday girl, serving as a sweet reminder of the day that we all got to have our cake and eat it.