𝑅𝑒𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 - 𝐵𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛𝑒

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑂𝑛𝑒

Alarm rang. The rain is pouring. No doubt that every day is the same day. Here I am on a queen-sized bed with a constant headache. No one to watch while they're sleeping aside from me. I looked over my phone on my dresser to see if anyone tried to contact me but there is a reminder message from my annoying editor, Anna, that I need to write the next book. I roll my eyes and go downstairs for a cup of coffee. Even though my British family drinks tea, I drink coffee. Not black, with cream.

While my coffee is making its way through, I check to see how my mom is doing on her 60th birthday. Yep, I pretty much remember her birthday because I'm a good daughter and it's how we met. Let me start from the beginning. I was abandoned as a baby with no parents to look after me. I was wrapped up with a blanket without offering my mom's milk with love and nurture. In front of the orphanage, there was a director of the orphanage named Fred who found me crying. I liked him. He was like a grandpa to me and still is. He nurtured me the best way he can with food and shelter of my own.

Eleven years later, there was a hazel-eyed woman in the lobby looking for a child. There she was in the living room in front of the window. Dahlia, a light-colored skin child with dark brown hair of two braids in her little purple dress reading a series of books in any category. So the pale-skinned middle-aged woman wanted to check to see what little young Dahlia was reading, and the little girl of 11 was reading Albert Einstein's book and was willing to read War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy for her book report of her own. The woman was surprised and asked Fred how old she was and he answered 11. From that time on, the little girl became Dahlia Day within a month chatting with her future mom without knowing that she would be adopted.

Now we are back to the present, where I call my mom to wish her a happy birthday with a cup of fresh coffee.

"Hey, Mom!"

"Hello, darling! Do you get enough sleep?" I don't care if I get any sleep or not. My mom just got her divorce from that cheating bastard a few months ago and now my mom doesn't seem too happy. Happy about her 60th birthday. On her own...

"Mom, you know I don't care about my sleep; I care about you."

"Lia, you know things happen for a reason, right?"

I nodded even though I'm on the phone, "Yeah I know, Mom... I just hate to hear or see you miserable and now I can't-", for some reason I couldn't sentence because I knew it would ruin her. "Anyway, I called to wish you a happy birthday and maybe we could go out to our usual place to celebrate?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to distract you from your writing..."

"Julia Day!" jokingly, "Today is the biggest celebration of all; welcoming to your first 60th year of a woman who you are now. There's no way in hell I'm missing it! " My mom laughed with joy. Her laughter was music to my ears. I couldn't explain how much I love my mom even though we look different due to the colors of our skin but she's still my mom.

"All right, sweetheart, how about we meet at about 7?"

I smiled, "Ok, Mom. By the way, you will get your surprise present in front of your door like about," looking at the brown, vintage clock by the entrance of my kitchen, "45 minutes." I ordered a bouquet. Her favorite, light pink Calla Lilies, and the six volumes of the first edition of War and Peace, the book I was reading when I first met my mom ten years ago to this day. I ended my call by telling my mom that I love her and we will meet soon.

Upstairs in my bedroom, I went through my closet, figuring out what I could wear... So I decided to wear my black top and black belted skinny pants under a gray blazer with white rolled-up sleeves. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and brushing my dark brown/blackish shoulder-length hair, and deciding to leave it in messy waves, I look at my brown-eyed reflection. I wish I could tell my mom my deepest secret, but I couldn't, not on her day.