Today was her birthday. There...
Illustration
Today was her birthday. There had been so many; today she was 93. At least, her body was. Her spirit seemed to be timeless as she roved through her memories. Her mind took her back to her fourth grade party. She had asked her mother if she could take cupcakes to school. The answer was a question: "How many children are in your class?" "Gee, Mom, there are 42. But I don't need that many. A couple dozen will be enough." "Two dozen?" her mother queried, eyebrows arched. "Twenty-four cupcakes for 42 children? I don't think so!" "But, Mom, you don't understand. I don't need them for everyone; only for the kids I like!" Her mother pounced! "No, no, my child. That won't do at all! Do you remember taking valentines to school last year?" "Yes, Mom," she had replied, wondering what valentines had to do with cupcakes. "Do you remember the discussion we had about taking one for each person in your class?" Suddenly it all came flooding back, her mother's wisdom about trying to imagine herself as the person who didn't get any valentines, trying to imagine how she would feel. She knew it would have been pretty awful. "So, Mom, what you're saying is that I can take cupcakes to school for my birthday but only if I take enough for everyone." "That's right, dear. Even though you may not like some of your classmates, they have feelings just like you do. And how would you feel if one of them had a birthday and excluded you?" -- Fannin
