Chapter 10 - The Birthday Cake
My twenty-second birthday was a warm, golden day in late October.
The rooftop terrace of my Chicago condo was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. Marcus Kane was there, telling a booming story to a group of my college friends. My colleagues from the foundation were laughing near the bar, and the city skyline stretched out behind them, brilliant and glittering.
"Andrew! Time for cake!" someone called out.
I walked over to the center table. Sitting on a silver platter was a beautiful, elegant chocolate cake. Written in bright, golden icing were the words:
Happy Birthday, Andrew!
My friends began to sing. I looked at the cake, and then at the faces of the people surrounding me—people who saw me, who valued me, and who had helped me build a life of purpose and joy.
As the song ended, I felt a familiar, hot lump rising in my throat. But this time, I didn't have to laugh to hide my tears.
May you like
I let them fall—warm, happy tears of victory. I took a deep breath, blew out the candles, and tasted the sweet, golden frosting.
I was home.
