Yesterday, on my birthday I was surprised by one lonely cupcake left on the dashboard of my car. It was topped with a strawberry.
To celebrate, my husband took me out to eat. While I ate, I thought of the cupcake; a small token of love and deliciousness sitting in the cupboard. Rather than order dessert at the restaurant, I knew it was waiting for me.
Through the evening, the temperature had dropped and the wind was gusting. It was not a fit night out for anyone. The ride home from our celebration was a shivery one. We were nearly home, I envisioned the plan for the rest of the evening. First, I would slip into my flannel pajamas, snuggle in bed, eat my birthday cupcake and give my husband a bite or two.
Once inside the house, I opened the corner cabinet, only to find the dishes neatly stacked. "Isaiah, did you eat my birthday cupcake?" I yelled upstairs to my six foot four son.
Leaning down into the great room from the landing outside his bedroom, he meekly replied, "Maybe." He rushed down the stairs. "Where was it?" he asked. I flung the cabinet door opened. No cupcake.
"Sorry Mum. I didn't know it was yours. I thought it was some random cupcake."
Reaching out for a hug I say,"It's OK, really. I didn't need it."
"Happy Birthday, Mum!" I hear him say as he hugs me back.
Marking 58 years without cake wasn't so bad after all.