❀2022 Watty Shortlister❀
❀𝗔𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗲́𝗻 𝗲𝗻 𝗘𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗻̃𝗼𝗹❀
Much against his will, River Allen can't drag his gaze away from the new student, seventeen-year-old Dawn Gray Brooks. It isn't that she lives in a ragged, teal dress, and ca...
There was one day I worshipped. One day where the sun would shine just for me, and the birds would chirp outside my window in a cliched, perfect scenario. On that day, they allowed me to be everything I wanted. Spoiled rotten and goofy. Why? Because when my birthday came, I was the center of my parents' universe and the world was my oyster.
I'd go on endless rides through the neighborhood with my dad, and we'd play our favorite game. We'd stop by random houses, basking under the sun, and imagine the life of the people that lived in them. We'd spy on them and make conversations. He'd be the male voices, and I'd take on the female ones with a talented cadence.
In the afternoon, Mom would bake the perfect birthday cake and the two of us would indulge in so many pieces we'd need a nap afterwards. Daddy and I were always prone to sweet things. Mom? Not so much. Yet, she enjoyed watching us munch until we dropped.
When Tommy came into this world and then Bree joined our party of four, this special routine didn't change one bit. I still felt like the queen of the universe every birthday morning. Dad would make sure it'd remain that way for the entire day.
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It's Sunday, and today, I'm seventeen. I don't know what to make of it. This is my second birthday without Daddy, and my chest burns so badly it's hard to breathe.
The world won't stop spinning, and I'm resenting the seconds that have passed and dreading the ones to come. But then, I hear noises downstairs and giggles. I hear whispers and the thudding of tiny feet jumping on the planks from expectation. My heart warms a little and the tiniest of smiles creeps up my face.
Tommy and Bree barge into my room with sheer glee. They don't mind if I'm awake or not—they haven't thought of it. They are all chubby cheeks and sticky fingers, clambering onto my bed with awkward limbs. They plant kisses on my face, and birthday drawings on my lap.
Bree's card is covered in pink glitter and red hearts that drip glue from their bends. Hearts are all I hear. Their thumping melody as my siblings crush me within their over-excited hugs. It's as if they wanted to say, "Don't get weird again, Dawn." "We worry about you, Dawn." "Stay."
Tommy's card has a picture of me. 'Doodle Dawn' shows a toothy, wide smile plastered on her face and her hair is on end—fair enough.
My gaze lowers to more sloppy, shameless love scattered over my lap.
'Happy Birthday, Dawney!'
'You're the best big sister we have!'
'Here's a heart for being so grate!'
'Hey! Your are really old but I love you!'
They squeal when I read them out loud. More hugs come swimming in a wave of laughter that floods the room. I float on it. I let it seep in my roots. I soak in this moment with gratitude.
