PART 1
The morning my son Caleb Foster turned five, the house carried a warm mix of vanilla candles, sizzling bacon, and the artificial sweetness of balloons fresh from their packaging.
I woke him before the sun had fully climbed over the oak tree outside his bedroom window. He was sprawled across his dinosaur sheets with one sock missing and his hair sticking in impossible directions. When I brushed his forehead gently, he blinked twice and then smiled so brightly it felt like someone had turned on a light inside him.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” I whispered softly.
“I’m five,” he said quietly, as if the number carried a secret too big to say aloud.
“You are, and it’s a big day,” I answered while smiling at him.
He sat upright suddenly and asked with excitement, “Is Aunt Melissa coming today?”
That question should have annoyed me slightly, but it never did because Caleb loved everyone without ranking them in his heart.
“Yes, she is coming, and she would never miss your birthday,” I said calmly.
He threw his arms around me and laughed loudly while saying, “This is the best day ever.”