There are candles on the cake. Everyone's smiling. You're all looking at me, looking at me look at the big candle's flame.

It's orange; it's yellow; it's white; it's clear. Through it, I see Uncle Ted worrying about his mortgage. I see Margaret from church, thinking about her son in the Army. Here's Sissy, wondering if Stefan really is seeing Siobhan.

You're all smiling, welcoming me to a new year in my life. Is this all I have to look forward to? If that's the case, why are you so happy for me?

Hi, Mommy. I see you, too. You and your your promise, "I'll make sure your life is better than mine."

I nod, I smile and I blow the candles out.

===

I was reading Little Murders and this coalesced as a sort of counterpoint to it. I beg your indulgence, both in the flood of posts, and in the lack of polish here.

This one is sloppy. It's flabby, but when the muse strikes, I must chose to either write it or later regret not writing, staring at the impression that meme made, trying to recreate the whole from just that one memory, a memory of a memory.

I'm at work, so I can't invest as much time in this as I want. If you have ideas how to tighten it, to hone its edge, I'd be most grateful.

As always, thanks for reading.