Chapter 2: Day 1
I had no part time job or allowance but what my mom loved to buy was arts and craft supplies. For my mom entering an arts and crafts store is akin to a kid entering a candy store.
She has such an addiction that the basement is a shrine for arts and crafts. Posters, canvases, and drawers upon drawers of every utensil you could ever possibly need. I usually don't enter the basement because my artistic level is novice. However, before I went to school I took it upon myself to enter the basement and hand made a card for Kyle's eighteenth birthday.
I thought of the cards in the store. How they're all filled with these hopeful phrases and heartfelt poetry. All I could think of was the obvious. So I wrote it down, signed it, and when I entered his room at the hospice center, he was surrounded by flowers.
I handed him my handmade birthday card. Since I don't know how to draw, I just wrote a big number 18 on the front.
Kyle opened the card and said aloud, "You're here now." Slowly he closed the card and gave me a look that could kill. "Was that supposed to be comforting? Because as you see," he waved at all of the flowers, "I have my fair share of people's pity today."
"That wasn't my intention," I replied, my cheeks turning red with anger.
"Then, what was it...what's your name?"
"Renata, and yours?"
"Kyle."
"My intention was to make you a birthday card because I love birthdays and you're lucky."
Kyle gave me a wry smile. "I'm lucky because all people could think of to get me was flowers and one crappy handmade card?"
"You're lucky because you get to do what others can't. You get to make everyday a celebration if you wanted to."
"You mean, celebrate every day as a new birthday? That doesn't make sense."
"It does to me," I reply. "In fact, I'll be back tomorrow. Happy birthday, Kyle." Before he could say more, I closed his door and moved on to the next room.
When I got home that night, I made the card for his 1st birthday.
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