Dee

“Happy Birthday Randy!” Delores Rhoads cried out as she presented her son, Randy with a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting. He shot the cake a uninterested look as he scratched his head, his short blonde hair in a bowl cut that seemed to frame his face perfectly.

“Well aren’t you going to blow out your candles and make a wish?” His mother asked excitedly as her face flushed, beside her stood Kathy, his sister and Doug, his brother, both which were older then him they both had similar expression on there faces. Randy looked around his eyes alight as he took a deep breath before blowing out the candles that were slowly sending wax onto his homemade cake. His mother clapped while his siblings looked glumly at another, if it had been there birthday they would be practically jumping off the table in excitement, not to mention the walls.

“What did you wish for?” Kathy asked Randy as Delores took the cake from Randy leaving the children to play and talk quietly until she returned, quite possibly with cake for herself as well as Kathy and Doug, Randy wouldn’t get any, he was too young and the sugar would just keep him up.

“Don’t tell her Randy, if you tell her, it won’t come true.” Doug said as Randy opened his mouth then shut it again, he wasn’t going to tell if that was the case. He wanted what he had asked for, rather badly at that and if there was a slightest chance that he wasn’t going to get it because that was the way that wishes worked. I want a guitar, like the one that grandpa had and I played on earlier during the year.

He thought frantically to himself, that was what he wanted, he wanted a guitar, one that he could call his own, not the one that had been his grandpa’s and that he was only allowed to use at certain times during the days when his mother didn’t need it.

For any of her students. He heard footsteps lightly on the floor, his mother was coming back, and that meant one thing, it was present time.

“Randy, come here darling, we have something that I think belongs to you.” His mother called as Randy looked up and then shot the kitchen a backwards glance in surprise. What was there that his mom needed him for? Why couldn’t she call Doug or Kathy, it was his birthday, it was supposed to be his day today, one where it was just his day simple as that, one where it was his day to be the number one.

“Okay mom, I’m coming.” Randy said rather reluctantly as he slid out of the comfortable chair that he was sitting in and put his feet down on the floor before stumbling over to the kitchen, if he hurried then he might be able to play with the present that he was soon to open before he went to bed. He walked into the kitchen and saw his mother standing in the kitchen, looking as pretty as she always did with her long dark chocolate hair that curled into soft ringlets as it fell to her back.

“Happy Birthday Randy!” His mom, Kathy and Doug cried as Randy caught sight of the beautiful guitar that stood in the corner of the kitchen with a red bow tied around the neck of it, it was white, it was beautiful and it was his. “It’s for you, don’t be shy about it, go get it.”

His mother coaxed him as he stepped forward closer to the guitar. He was right, it was his guitar, it was a shiny white without a single scratch, it was perfect, he took another few steps as he slowly picked the guitar up, it fit in his hands perfectly, just perfectly. Speechless he turned to his mother and siblings his mouth open in shock.

“T-t-thank you.” Randy stuttered as he looked at the guitar, he couldn’t even tear his eyes off the beautiful instrument that was in his hands. His mother laughed at the expression that was on his face as she patted his head before squatting down next to him.

“You’re very welcome Randy, now off to bed with you it’s late and you’ll need your rest.” His mother said as she smiled kindly at him, he returned the smile even though he really didn’t want to put the beautiful instrument down and go to bed.

“But mom.” He started to protest as his mother put a finger against his lips, hushing him.

“No, it’s bed time now, you can play your guitar tomorrow.” His mom staid sternly as Randy grumbled to himself before nodding his head before handing the guitar to his mom, she would take care of it while Randy went to bed. As he walked away and slowly weaved his way into his room the words that she had said to him echoed in his ears. She hadn’t said you could play the guitar tomorrow, she had said you can play your guitar tomorrow.

Even the thought was happy, it was his guitar, it belonged to him, and from that moment on it was no one else’s it was his, and it was all that mattered.