You Say It's Your Birthday

Her eyes were wide with curiosity. Her mouth tensely shut. Her head panned from one side of the dark room to the other as the candles flickered before her, bright like a campfire; the heat reflecting from her cherub cheeks and moist lips.

Her little body jumped when the group began to sing.
"Happy Birthday to you."

You could see the familiarity of the song flush the surprised expression from her face.
"Happy Birthday to you."

Having heard the tune with her name inserted only once her entire life, the soft smirk and sideway glances expressed a new level of appreciation for the ritualistic melody. The friends and family continued. A camera flashed.
"Happy Birthday to Ellie"

More transfixed on the booming words around her, no attention was given to the burning wax sticks just inches from her chin. The two year old sat motionless, simply absorbing the moment; unaware of the expectations soon coming.
"Happy Birthday to YOU!"

Suddenly, her older sister who had been sitting at her side during the entire serenade leapt forward and blew out all of the candles. Only a second in time transpired from when the last note was sung to when all the light was extinguished in the kitchen.

The heat of the moment consumed Emma while the pregnant pause, pimp-slapped her back into the reality of what she had done. In replace of the accustomed cheering and clapping, there was a deafening silence, broken only by the embarrassed outburst of tears from her eager sister.

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

I drove to Safeway, purchased a single pink rose, and went to her school picnic which I was 45 minutes late to attend. I had learned of the event just that morning and was busy all day at work. I had not told her I was going to come because of my ignorance of the lunch festivities.

All the food had been eaten and parents congregated in small circles distributing small talk. Children were spread throughout the playground like busy ants on their hill.

I walked into the school inconspicuously with the plastic wrapped flower and gently inserted it into the dirty purple backpack she had hanging on her hook. As I was zipping up the bag, her teacher, Ms. Aly caught me in the act. She had a mother right behind her.

"Oh how sweet." Ms Aly cooed.
"What's that?" the mother asked.
"Someone is getting a rose." she informed the questioner.

I turned with that broken lump in my gullet and tried to act manly.
"That girl just broke my heart today. She started crying because she is going to miss us this weekend while we are gone."
I turned and quickly walked out the back of the school to find Emma, but not before I saw the same swelling tear I had seen in the truck that in the eye of the questioning mother. My throat clenched more.

Wiping my face, I spotted the familiar pretty dress and the tightly pulled ribbon in her hair. I meandered through the groups of people and approached my little girl who was playing with her friend, Loren in the center of the playground. When I was about 15 feet or so away, she spun right around and caught my eyes immediately.

"DADDY!" she hollered with a glowing happy mouth as she ran right to me. She nearly knocked me off my feet when we met.

I talked a bit with her as she continually smiled at me the way her mother has so many times - with the most beautiful loving smile. The type of patient glance that will forever be embedded in my memory. Soon, out of nowhere, another girl came running over and started to hug me too. It was a good thing, I would of been a blubbering idiot in the middle of that wood chip covered park. Prying the strange kid off of me, I said to Emma, "I am sorry I didn't make it for the food."

"I knew you were going to come." she interrupted me as she hugged me yet again.

I couldn't stay long. I had to return to work, but before I said goodbye, I told her that I had left something for her in her backpack. Something she could look at this weekend and remember how much her mother and I love her.

Then I scurried back to my vehicle and slowly returned to the place that gives me the lifestyle and comfort to make sure that I can afford to take care of my life, my treasures, my roses.

Your Love is Like a Rollercoaster, Baby

It was one of those mornings where you couldn't open your mouth without a song jumping right out! The girls were loving to everyone in the house. There was sharing, kind words, laughter. The coffee seemed stronger with a more exotic blend. It was hotter than usual too. It was Friday. Money had been magically planted into our checking account just hours before through miniscule wires.

Driving Emma to school, the early autumn morn was warmed by the love radiating from my family. I felt proud and claimed, "You and your sister have been so good this morning. You'll need to be the same way at your grandparents' this weekend. They will be so proud of you. All of you will have a great time."

My firstborn's beaming face made the birds sing. "Today is beautiful. I hope you have a great day at school." I said as I turned the radio knob to hear a familiar tune and continued driving.

About a mile or so down the road, I glanced at my rear view mirror. The cherub's face had turned grey. Deep thought hijacked her as she stared blankly out the window. The sudden shift of mood shook me. I turned the volume down.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" I asked.
"Nothing" she croaked out.
"You sure?"
"Hmm, Hmm"

A few seconds passed as I constantly peeked back at her. She did not move. Her eyes were fixed. Tears were beginning to swell on the cusp of her eyelids.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I asked in my most high-pitched tender voice.
"NOTHING!" she hollered at me as a single tear leapt from each eye.

I have had this conversation with several women close to me throughout my life. This go around, however, I knew immediately that something was desperately wrong to make a four year old act so odd at the flip of a switch. A waterfall of questions and terrible thoughts flushed through my mind:
"What did I say? Does she not want to go to school? Did something happen there? That man that works there, what's his name? Dave, Mr. Dave. Emma really likes him. Did he do something to my baby? I will hurt him. I am going to go to jail."

My skin began to perspire, as my thoughts escaped my head in forms of questions for my broken girl in the back seat. "Are you sad?" I asked (duh).
"No." she sharply replied.
"Are you mad?" I tried again.
"No." she repeated.
"Are you glad?" I was trying to make her smile.
"NO." she demanded.
"Then what makes you cry? Do you want to go to school?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."

Now my hands began to slip from the wet steering wheel as I kept my eyes fixed on the mirror image of the little one in the back. I slapped the radio off completely.
"You know why, baby. Are you scared to go to school? Did something happen?"
"No."
"You know you can tell me everything. Did something happen?"
"No."
"You sure? Please tell me why you are crying." I begged her.
"I DON'T KNOW!" she bursted with uncontrollable sobs.
"Baby, you are scaring me." I shuttered.

I quickly rewound the words we had just spoken to find some sort of clue.
I shifted gears, for a new approach "Are you upset about us leaving for the weekend?"
"YES!" she screamed with more tears spraying.

I swerved and stopped the truck for both of our safety, jumped out of the vehicle, opened the back door and and was greeted with the biggest hug from the trembling child.

My heart broke into a million pieces as I twirled her in my arms. We said nothing for what seemed like hours. Her grip tightened with each twist. Relief washed the hideous fears that flooded my thoughts. I wanted to just stay there with her on the side of the road all day long.

Eventually we peeled ourselves apart and I consoled her and told her of all of the fun things Grammy had planned for her and Ellie for the short weekend. Her sadness began to fade and smiles emerged again. We buckled up and continued our journey to her school.

As I drove the mile or so to my work in silence, my adrenaline subsided and I drew deep breathes of thanks. The ache of my tattered heart began to lodge itself deep into my throat.

The sun flickered through the golden leaves of the fall-struck trees.