There was a golden birthday.
The birthday girl stomped home in a cloud of ill humour after picking a dumb fight with someone she adores. Then she tripped straight into a lair of all her favorite friends gathered to besiege her with a surprise party.
The ill humour dissipated in that millisecond of teary disbelief…was this really all for her? And then the glee swelled and broke, and she clapped her hands like a giddy child. A giddy, golden birthday child.
The whole house was swathed like a crime scene in birthday tape and balloon garlands and bunting. The party bandits threw down cake after cake til the table audibly creaked under the weight of so much home-baked goodness. A bajillion twinkling tea lights lit up the way to a clutch of wine bottles in bowling pin formation. And there were pretty presents, including a glamourous pair of emerald and gold socks.
I know I’m loved. But sometimes I forget how much.