Happy Birthday

He would have been 12 now. Every year, on his birthday, I watch the last video I took of him. His 7th birthday, he was so happy.

He played with his friends, blew out the candles, opened up his presents, then swung at the pinata.

They never found out who drove the truck that hit him. Every year I try to get more answers from the police. Every year I bake a cake. Every year I watch that video.

I always cry at the end, when everyone had left and he walks up to the camera and said, "Thank you Daddy, I love you, I always will, never forget that."

My television is stained from my tear-soaked hand print as I touch the screen weeping.

But for the first time in four years I look up at the screen before the tape cuts out.

He holds his hand against mine through the glass and smiles sadly at me.