The Stolen Birthday

I hate birthdays. My thirteenth birthday diminished any thrill I’ve ever had about celebrating my “special day”. I used to adore my birthday. It was the one day a year that I was able to do whatever I wanted. It was the one day a year that I felt unique and blissful, until I turned thirteen years old, and my birthday was stolen from me. Ripped away from the depths of my soul.

I remember it like it was yesterday, waking up to the gratifying smell of my mother’s confetti birthday pancakes with a hint of crispy bacon and warm maple syrup. I remember seeing a wrapped present sitting on the edge of my bed with a note attached to a perfectly tied magenta colored ribbon, “Happy Birthday Willow, may all your birthdays be filled with love and wonderful surprises. Love Mom.” Aww, how sweet, I thought to myself, not realizing that my mother wasn’t so sweet after all. She played a major role in the thieving of my thirteenth birthday.

I quickly opened my present, destroying all of the pretty plush wrapping paper and completely dismantling the magenta ribbon, only to see a plain white box underneath. I shook the box frantically, hoping to guess what was inside. Unable to guess, I opened the box and saw a beautiful gold, heart shaped necklace with my name engraved in cursive on the front. Normally, this type of gift would have me in awe, as I am a girl that loves jewelry, but I was not too fond of this particular necklace. The necklace was only half of what looked like a broken heart with my name engraved on the left side. Where is the other half of the heart? I pondered. I fabricated the idea that my mother possessed the other half, which brought an instant smile to my face. I hopped out of bed and headed downstairs to greet my mother as the smell of warm maple syrup groped my nose.

“Good morning, birthday girl”, my mother said as she flipped 2 perfectly rounded confetti pancakes in the air and placed them on a plate next to 2 slices of bacon, “are you excited for your birthday party tonight?” I was beyond excited for my birthday party, I couldn’t stop thinking about it that entire week. I took a seat at the kitchen table as my mother placed the plate of food and a glass of orange juice in front of me. “I’m super excited!” I said as I stuffed my face with confetti pancakes. My mother smiled at me and laughed; she picked up a napkin and wiped the syrup that was dripping down chin. “I have a special surprise for you tonight, and I really hope you like it” she said. I was so consumed by the taste of the pancakes that I was unable to respond to her. I also failed to ask her about the half broken, heart shaped necklace that I received that morning.

That day went by fairly quickly, and before I knew it, it was 5 o’clock and time for my thirteenth birthday party. My mother decorated the whole house with pink and blue decorations. Pink and blue balloons were scattered across the living room floor and the front door entrance was aligned with pink streamers. The stairwell was traced with blue streamers and each step was covered in pink and blue confetti. Guests started arriving at 5:30 pm, with my best friend Talia arriving first, and my other friends from school trickling in one by one. The first hour of the party was stupendous. We played musical chairs, pin the tail on the donkey, and board games. We spent a majority of the party dancing and listening to our favorite songs. We ate loads of pizza and excessive amounts of cake and candy. Everything was going wonderful, until an unexpected visitor arrived.

 The doorbell rang and completely disrupted my birthday party. Who could that be? I looked around at all my friends and counted everyone. “Eight” I counted. All of my friends were already at the party, so I was incredibly baffled by the fact that someone would be so rude enough to interrupt my thirteenth birthday party.

My mother rushed to the door, looking through the peep hole before slowly creeping the door open. There stood a 6 foot tall man with an obnoxiously large abdomen and excessive amounts of hair on his chin. He had dirt brown hair and tiny emerald green eyes. He had a chubby face and tomato red cheeks. I had absolutely no idea who he was. He was holding a small gift wrapped box, clenching it so tight in his palm that even the smallest amount of added pressure would have crushed whatever was inside. The light beaming through the kitchen window reflected on his shinny forehead, exposing the heavy amount of sweat sluggishly leaking down his face. He seemed nervous. He spoke quietly with my mom for a few moments before slowly approaching me. “Willow, there is someone I want you to meet” my mother said as the man followed behind her, trying to hide his plus size body behind my mother’s petite physique, “This is Dan.” The man peaked out from behind my mother and took two small steps closer toward me. He bent down on one knee, as if he were getting ready for a proposal, so that he and I were at eye level. “Happy Birthday, Willow. This is for you” he said as he handed me the small gift wrapped box. I stared at him for a few moments before excepting the gift. He looked extremely familiar to me and we both happen to have emerald green eyes. “Thank you” I said as I accepted the gift. I looked up back at my mother, noticing the huge smile on her face as she looked down at us. I looked back at the man, to realize he was not smiling. He looked as if he were getting teary eyed and his voice cracked as he said “Willow, do you know who I am?”, sarcastically, I responded, “Dan?”. Dan and my mother both chuckled before Dan replied, “Yes my name IS Dan, but Willow, I am your father.”

At that moment, I felt a lump in my throat. I felt as if my heart stopped for a brief moment. That was my first time meeting my dad. I instantly dropped the small gift wrapped box and threw myself into his arms. I dreamed of the day where my father and I would finally be able to meet each other. We hugged each other tightly for a few moments. I did not want to let go. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I hugged my father even tighter. After I finally released myself from his arms, we both wiped our tears. “It’s so nice to meet you” I struggled to say while tears continued to roll down my face. He smiled and stood back up on both feet. “It’s nice to meet you too, Willow. I also have someone else I want you to meet.” He walked back out the front door for a few minutes then returned, this time, with a little girl. She was about my weight and height, maybe a little bit taller, with hair color identical as me. She walked toward me with her head down, as if she were embarrassed to be there. My mother smiled at me and said “ Willow, this is Rose.” Rose lifted her head up and the moment I saw her face, I instantly froze. She looked exactly like me. She had my nose, my emerald green eyes, and my large ear lobes. We both stared at each other in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. That’s when I figured it out. Rose was my twin. I scanned her several times to see if I could identify anything that was different about us, and that’s when I saw it. Rose was wearing a gold, half broken, heart shaped necklace. The other half to my necklace, except hers had Rose engraved in it on the right side. Rose must have been in shock because she remained silent.

It took me a few moments to wrap my head around what was happening. I felt embarrassed as my friends watched me meet my twin sister at my thirteenth birthday party, but then I reached a conclusion. Rose was my twin, which meant that this was no longer my birthday party it was OUR birthday party. I no longer had this special day to myself. I felt a sense of anger boiling inside me as I looked at Rose. Even though she hadn’t said anything, I instantly hated her.

She stole my birthday from me.