Memories

One of the best memories of my childhood are the birthday parties my mother used to throw. I was born in the middle of autumn, during the Indian Summer, so the weather used to be mild and it allowed us to play outside under the sun. I remember how my mother used to set up games. There was this one where you had to catch sweets on a bowl full of water and then do the same in one full of flour, there were piñatas, and balancing eggs on spoons while walking, running with your feet tied to someone else, sack races, and one where you had to try to pop a balloon attached to someone else's foot while protecting your own. After that, we would eat cake. It was always plain cake covered in chocolate and M&Ms. It was the best cake I've ever eaten.

I remember telling all this to Jack on our first date. He had asked me about my fondest memory and I spent maybe ten minutes talking about it. I had forgotten we had talked about it, it was almost three years ago after all, until now. Today's my birthday and Jack has thrown me a surprise party. Our backyard is covered in balloons and all our friends are here wearing silly hats and colorful clothes. I can't contain myself and start crying. I hug Jack closely, feeling his warmth.

I spend the whole afternoon playing and running as I did when I was a child. All the energy is back and I can almost feel my hair trailing behind me as I did when I was younger. As I try to catch apples with my mouth from a barrel, I forget about the pain. As I blow the candles and cut the cake, I forget about death. Today I'm six again, instead of thirty-one. Today I'm young and I'm healthy. Today the cancer doesn't exist, the cancer that has robbed me of my energy and my hair, the cancer that is going to send me to an early grave. Today the cancer is gone, even if only for today.