Last time I had a birthday party
my daddy came, and he stood
right in the middle of everyone,
singing just as loud as he could.
I sure wish everything didn’t
remind me of him.
I reckon everybody notices
I’m not feeling too excited
about my special day,
since Aunt Bee squeezes
my shoulder real hard
and Gran lights those eleven candles
spread out on the top of the cake
and Granddad pulls on his guitar
and they all start singing
the happiest version
of “Happy Birthday”
I’ve ever heard
in my whole life.
Something about it
warms me from
the inside.
while Charlie piles presents
in front of me. Some new shoes
from Gran and Granddad.
Paint supplies from Aunt Bee.
Charlie’s gift is a rectangle,
flat and heavy and hard.
I tear into the plain blue paper.
Inside is a frame with a
thousand buttons glued
to a piece of the fabric.
The way the buttons
curve together makes it look
just like the road that
took my daddy.
And I don’t think she
expected it at all, but I cry,
and I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I don’t really know why.
on their insides, hold all
the colors of us.
Orange for Charlie.
Green for me.
Yellow for Mama.
Blue for my daddy.
All our favorites wrapped
around each other.
We are still together,
even in our worlds apart.
I don’t know if this is
what Charlie meant
when she made it for me,