The Secrets to New York

Fourteen | Forever

It seemed like you were feeling better by the time your birthday rolled around.

January 17.

I don’t know if you were really just that good at fooling everyone, or if it was something else that ended up tearing you away.

We went over to your mom’s house; she had ice cream and cake with the numbers “23” written out in perfect blue dye on top of the vanilla icing. She had the Beatles album that you loved so much playing lightly in the background. The house felt kind of empty without your dad, but we all tried to ignore the feeling it left us with.

You laughed and smiled throughout the day; that smile that gave me so much hope. I couldn’t imagine you ever losing that. (I never wanted to lose it myself, but I guess we don’t always get what we want).

We sang you happy birthday and you blew out the candles without any problem.

What did you wish for? your mom questioned as she cut the first piece of cake.

You paused for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not you wanted to tell us, before you finally whispered forever.