There it was, my birthday cake, a two-layer dream leaning ever so slightly to the left with seven pink candles sitting in a mass of swirled icing. I leaned over the candles, closed my eyes and pictured being the only child. I imagined a life that did not have hand-me-downs or someone waiting to report my every naughty deed. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, wished with all of my might, and blew the candles out. I heard the applause and smelled the smoke. I knew it was over and I was afraid to open my eyes. My sisters were gone. I could feel it.
A picture from that moment shows me in my white Sunday dress with a grass stain down the side, my hair ribbon askew, and my face glowing over the candles. It was the last time that I was really happy. It was the last time that I believed I could change my life just by only wishing for it to be different.
This and other stories are available in Ghost Country: A Novel
