The cake. The cake is the most important part of a birthday. As it is a very important thing in most celebrations, for birthdays, it’s almost a requirement. Something that’s so common that you feel obligated to do it.

The cake. You can’t forget it. It’s so important.

I sit at the table, hands crossed, feet swinging, waiting patiently.. impatiently. There was a smile on my face, but it disappeared after the first few minutes of waiting.

My birthday hat droops and I sigh.

The cake.. there isn’t a cake. It’s the only thing I wanted - the only thing I asked for. I wanted a chocolate cake.

Suddenly, I feel like crying. My nose burns, and tears fill my eyes even though I don’t want them to. I don’t want to cry because I’m nine now and nine-year-olds don’t cry.. they shouldn’t cry.

Especially over such a little thing… like a birthday cake.

I’m crying now. I set my head on the table and cry really hard, like the time when I was four and fell off my bike. I’m crying so hard that I barely hear my family walk in. And, I barely hear them when they sing.

“Happy Birthday day to you.”

I slowly lift my head and wipe my teary eyes. My mom is standing in front of me with a cake. A chocolate cake, the one thing I asked for. It’s real big and looks delicious.

“Happy Birthday to you.” They all sing.

My smile comes back even though I’m still crying. I think that I don’t know how to stop, because I’m not sad anymore. I got my birthday cake. I’m not sad anymore.