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Thanks so much for joining us this week to read my birthday gift to you, a short story. If you need to catch up, the first day is here. Have fun!  “But Dad, what ARE we doing for Mom’s birthday this year?” Michelle took a big bite of chicken finger. Pete’s gaze met Ginny’s across the table, fear palpable in his expression. He did not do parties if he could at all avoid it. Most of the time, he made sure Ginny got some gifts and a bag of her favorite chocolates. And she appreciated it. But this was a big year. Sure, Pete hadn’t wanted any deal made when he turned forty the year before. But he hated being the center of attention, too. In fact, he’d rather skip his birthday completely, if he could find a way to do it. But he’d married Ginny, who loved any and all excuses to celebrate. “Chelle, Mom’s birthday isn’t for two more weeks. I know because mine is two weeks and two days away and hers is right before mine.” Carter dipped a French fry in ketchup. “I know hers is before yours, Carter. That’s why I suggested we start planning for it. Because we should celebrate hers BEFORE yours.” Michelle, at age twelve, had the patronizing eye-roll down perfectly. “Are we going to give Mom a party?” Carter’s forehead wrinkled. All eyes turned her way. Ginny huffed. “I should not have to throw my own birthday party. I already told you I thought it would be fun to have one, but I draw the line at actually planning it myself. And I won’t make my own cake, either.” Pete’s shoulders slumped a bit. Poor introverted guy. “Maybe we could just combine hers with Carter’s.” Michelle popped a grape in her mouth. “I mean, his party is ON Mom’s birthday this year. It only makes sense.” “Hey!” Carter looked up from the structure he was building with his fries. “I don’t want to share my party.” Carter hadn’t wanted to share anything since the day he was born, so that statement surprised no one. “Besides, Mom doesn’t want a Lego party.” Carter shrugged as if that was obvious. “What do you want for your birthday, Mom?” Michelle finally turned to Ginny instead of continuing to talk about her like she wasn’t sitting right beside her. “I already told you. I want a party. And a new pair of rain boots wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.” Ginny sipped her sweet tea. “And probably more chocolate.” Carter drove a chicken finger through his ketchup. “She always likes chocolate.” He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t mean it should be the only thing she ever received for each and every special occasion for the rest of her life. Ginny stifled a sigh. Her family meant well, and she loved them to pieces, but sometimes it felt like they didn’t get her at all. Does your family "get you" better than Ginny's does her? What do you think will happen next?
Come back tomorrow for Day 3.
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This is a place for me to tell you about what I'm writing, talk about the process or where some of my ideas came from, or even have other authors come in and talk about their books.
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