The birthday

The birthday

The birds were singing a sweet, harmonious melody in the fall dawn. I awoke to this remarkable breathtaking day, I was enraptured with excitement. I was not only infused with this elation, but I was tempted with the sentiment of fright: the fear that this day will be not as I had planned. I was afraid my eagerness would disintegrate like fire red roses left unattended to die in the scorching heat. I had been tirelessly planning for this exceptional day that came but once a year, as it had for the past 9 years. I had never planned this day, for it was a ritual we never celebrated. However, this year my parents granted me permission to celebrate this occasion with everyone, so I took the opportunity quicker than a cheetah attacks his prey. These were troubled times for me: Acquaintances and friends of my grade and age had just discovered the thrilling rush of bullying, the one in a billion notable feeling, I hadn’t experienced. I was edgy, frightened, and gleeful. I was constantly pondering and musing. When I gave out those invitations and they promised they would come did they really mean it? I spoked to myself “The party starts at 1, shouldn’t the party suppliers have come already.” It was 11:30am, they were scheduled to arrive at 11:00pm. A shutter of agitation spread throughout body, I froze. My brain, my body, and my world stopped. My minor OCD was kicking in, I could feel the oxygen molecules bouncing in my lungs faster and faster as I started breathing hard repeatedly. I started pacing across my colorless living room with colorful toys scattered across as if it was a work of art, a white canvas with paint splattered across it. My father had reconstructed our ordinary massive backyard with patches of grass that looked like the spots on a dalmatian, into a volleyball court complete with sand and the bright red boundary lines. My dad had also put a basketball court right next to the volleyball court. My siblings always called it “Athlete Heaven” in an...

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