We had lost many things since then.
A marriage.
Years.
Trust.
Versions of ourselves we could never get back.
But sitting there at sixty, surrounded by my six grown children, I realized something.
Families don’t survive because nothing ever goes wrong.
They survive because people decide to come back to the table.
Because someone apologizes.
Someone forgives.
Someone answers the phone next time.
Someone stays.
My birthday had started with silence so painful I thought it might swallow me.
It ended with laughter bouncing off the walls.
Not perfect.
Not like the old days.
But maybe I didn’t need the old days anymore.
Grant squeezed my hand as everyone shouted at me to make a wish.
I looked around at six familiar faces.
Then I leaned toward the candles.
I already had my wish.
For one more night, the room was loud.
The table was full.
And I wasn’t alone.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
