Amy's Birthday

Amy never expected this on her birthday.

Amy burrowed further down into her blankets, the last remnants of her dreams fading away at the edges of her mind. Sunlight filtered into her room through the slats of the plastic blinds on the window. She pulled the blanket off her face and peered out, wondering why her mother hadn’t been in to wake her. Normally, her mother’s voice pulled her from sleep before the sun made its appearance for the day. There were always chores to be done and pets to feed before she wolfed down her breakfast and ran to catch the school bus at the end of the lane. Amy listened but didn’t hear the sound of her mother’s footsteps outside her door. She was wide awake now, wondering what had become of the normal routine of the day.

She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of her bed, wishing she had worn socks to bed the night before as her feet touched the cold slats of the wood floor. She hurried to her closet to find her slippers, stuffing her feet into them as quickly as possible to ward off the chill that was creeping up her legs from the floor. As she turned to make her way across the room, it suddenly hit her. Today was her birthday! A mini-celebration went off in her stomach as she remembered. She was eight years old today! That must be why her mother let her sleep in, she thought. She hurried across the room, slung open the door and ran for the kitchen to find her mom.

The sounds and smells coming down the hall pulled at her like a magnet. Is that cake I smell? she wondered. She heard water running, pots clanking, the cabinet doors being opened and closed. The sound of her mother in the kitchen was one of her favorite sounds in the world. It made Amy feel safe. She ran faster now, grabbing her mother around the waist and burying her head in the apron she wore every morning as her mom turned to wrap her arms around Amy.

“Is that my birthday girl? My eight-year-old almost-grown-and-getting-married birthday girl?”

Amy giggled at her mother’s words. “Mom, I can’t get married. I’m only eight!”

“Oh, that’s right,” her mother continued with the game they had played on every birthday for as long as Amy could remember. “You won’t be getting married until next year. I always get that confused, don’t I? Well, happy birthday, my sweet girl. I guess it’s just me and you for a while longer then, hmmm?”

Amy smiled up at her mother, watching as she turned back to the bowl on the counter and added a dusting of sugar. Some of it floated into the air like a powdery cloud as her mother began to stir the contents in the bowl with a wooden spoon. There were so many delicious smells in the kitchen, Amy couldn’t decide which one she liked the best. She was sure she smelled chocolate cake, her favorite, and maybe biscuits and sausage, too. Suddenly, she was starving. As if her mother could read Amy’s mind, she pulled a plate out of the cabinet, filled it with scrambled eggs and, sure enough, biscuits and sausage and placed it on the table in front of Amy’s chair.

“Come and eat your breakfast, honey. I made all your favorites this morning. Nothing’s too good for my birthday girl,” her mother sang out in the happy voice she always reserved just for Amy. As Amy sat down to eat, there was a knock on the door. Amy and her mother looked at each other in surprise, and then both looked toward the door in unison. “Well, who in the world could that be?” Amy’s mother wondered aloud as she turned to the door.

Amy was surprised to see a man standing on the porch. He was holding something under his arm; it looked like a present. Amy wondered if he was a delivery man, but then noticed that he was wasn't wearing the same brown uniform the delivery man usually wore. She looked a little closer and noticed that the stranger was very tall, he had a mustache and black curly hair that looked like it needed a haircut. He looked a little familiar, but Amy couldn't remember having seen him before. She waited for her mother to say something, but she just stood looking through the screen door at the strange man, who did the same thing on the other side of the screen. Neither of them said anything; they just stood there staring at each other.

“Mom, who is that?” Amy’s voice seemed to startle her mother, and she turned her gaze toward Amy. The man still just stood there, not saying anything, but he was now staring at Amy too. “Mom?” Amy’s voice had a worried quality to it.

“It’s okay, honey, just eat your breakfast. I’ll be right out here on the porch for a minute. It’s okay, just eat.”

Amy didn't like what she saw through the window. Her mother and the stranger didn’t look like they were talking friendly to each other. Her mother looked angry; she waved her hands around in the air the way she did when she got excited or scared. The man didn’t say very much, just listened mostly. Amy couldn’t hear what they were talking about, so she moved closer to the door. She shrank back when it suddenly swung open, as her mother strode back inside with the stranger trailing behind her.

For a moment, no one said anything and all Amy could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her mother looked worried and upset. The stranger was looking at Amy with a big goofy smile that stretched across his whole face. Relief washed over Amy as her mother knelt down to put her arms around her. Still keeping a watchful eye on the stranger, Amy’s mother said in a shaky voice, “Amy, this is your father.”


Word count: 1015