"Your father was out there in the dark with a flashlight hanging balloons." Mommy told me.
"I thought it would be more fun to wake up to it than see it happening days before," he commented from behind.
I still had trouble finding my voice. Finally. I shook my head and shrieked with joy.
"Its beautiful!"
I rushed into his arms to kiss him and then hugged and kissed Mommy who couldn't stop laughing at my excitement.
"Is your father crazy or not?"
"NO!" I cried. "He's wonderful!"
"You see," Daddy said, "at least I have one woman in this house who sees sense in the things I do."
"You poor outnumbered man," Mommy teased.
"Well, you should have heard Mrs. Geary mumbling how it was all too much of this or too much of that and how even happy shocks can be damaging to a young, impressionable spirit."
"Don't make fun of her." Mommy softly chided.
"Make fun of her? It's everyone else who's making fun of me. All right. I've got some small matters to look after, such as the parking
arrangements. I don't want any of Summer's teenager friends driving their cars over the flowers." Daddy said and left.
Mommy shook her head and smiled after him. Would I ever find anyone I loved as much and who loved me as much as my parents loved each other? They were living proof that there really was such a thing as soul mates.
"You'd better get yourself dressed and come down to breakfast." she said turning back to me and starting away.
"I'm too excited to eat. Mommy."
"If you don't. Mrs. Geary will single-handedly rip every balloon off every tree and pack up the tables and chairs," she warned. We laughed.
I hugged her again.
"Happy, happy birthday. Summer. All your birthdays have been special to me because it was truly a miracle for us to have you,' she said softly. "but I know how special this one is for you."
"Thank you. Mommy."
I knew how true that was, how difficult my birth was for her and how they had decided not to try to have any more children and test their Good luck.
"I'll see you downstairs," she said and continued to wheel herself out to the chair elevator that would take her down the stairs and to the wheelchair below.
Never in my life had my mother ever stood on her own beside me. Never had we walked side by side or ran together. Never had we gone strolling through department stores or down streets to window-shop.
When I was old enough to push her. I thought it was fun. After all. I was a little girl moving my mother along. But somewhere along the way. I turned to watch other mothers and daughters walking through malls. and I looked at Mommy's face and saw the longing and the sadness and no longer did I feel excited or amused by it.
Was that what growing older meant? I wondered. Losing all your illusions?
If that was so, why were any of us so happy and so willing to blow out the candles?
.
Mrs. Geary milled about the breakfast table longer than she had to, studying me eat as if my consumption of food was part of some important experiment.
"It's a big day." she preached when I
complained about being given too much. "Big days require bigger fortification. I know what's going to happen out there after the festivities start. You won't eat a thing and you'll be going, going, going-- draining and draining that wisp of a willow of a body of yours. That's when sickness comes knocking on the door anticipating a big fat welcome."