The girl (my mother) was going to be 14. For weeks she had planned her birthday party. When one is in the eighth grade, parties are very special. This was to be the highlight of her year. One day shortly before the important day came, her brother’s leg was severely injured. It required almost constant wet dressings. Noise seemed to make it hurt worse.
The party was canceled, regretfully. The birthday came and another brother and sister-in-law came to call. “Come home with us for the night,” they urged. Even a mild diversion is welcome when one’s big plans are upset. Gratefully she gathered her nighttime gear.
“Do you mind if we go past Grandma’s house for a few minutes?” Brother asked.
She really did mind but was too polite to say so. Grandmother lived only two blocks away. She loved her dearly and never missed a day of stopping in for a short visit. But today she had already had her little visit. Oh, well, Grandma goes to bed early; they won’t stay long, she thought and summoned up the good grace to smile when they went in.
The night was cold. It felt good to stand by the old potbellied stove and soak up its soothing warmth. She had scarcely warmed herself when the parlor door flew open and cries of, “Surprise! Surprise!” filled the room. Surprised. That was putting it mildly. She was flabbergasted! All her friends were there but not one had given her the slightest hint.
Grandmother and family had seemed concerned only with the injured leg. How sweet it was to be the center of attention, to feel the love and care of family and friends; to know that birthdays really matter.