My family left me to eat alone on my 75th birthday, using my money to vacation in Europe. So I sold the house while they were gone and moved next door to watch their faces when they came back…

I inquired about the date once again when April came and went. We’re simply figuring out the timetable, he added. It will coincide with your birthday exactly.

Assure me. I trusted him. I even purchased a brand new bag.

Purple. On sale. With the tag still on, I kept it by the front entrance.

I took two weeks to load it gradually. I spread out the sundress with the hibiscus motif, which is my favorite. My sandals from church.

I hadn’t worn a sunhat for eight years. I also inserted the handkerchief belonging to my spouse. For comfort only, I had the impression that he would be joining us in spirit.

However, Andre called the night before my birthday. He sounded as though he was driving in a hurry. I hate to tell you, Mama, but we’re having to postpone the trip a bit, he remarked.

My heart fell. Oh, how long shortly? A few more weeks, perhaps. We only have a few scheduling issues.

Oh, I see. So, at least I’ll see you tomorrow for supper. A pause occurred.

Of course, he responded. I wouldn’t miss it. We will definitely stop by.

For me, that was plenty. I made an effort to sound unimpressed. Plans do change, after all.

Life becomes hectic. I told myself it was fine. At least I’d see them.

So, on the morning of my 75th birthday, I woke up early and turned on my gospel playlist. I put on a fresh pot of coffee and started cooking. Fried chicken yams, macaroni fresh string beans with smoked turkey.

I baked a sweet potato pie from scratch. Used real vanilla this time, not the imitation stuff. I even brought out the good china from the top cabinet, the one with the gold trim I only used on holidays.

I set the table for five. Me Andre, his wife Brianna, their daughter Imani, and maybe Tyrell from next door if they decided to bring him a plate. I dressed in the blue floral dress my husband used to say made me look 10 years younger.

I curled my hair. Put on a little lipstick. I lit the tall candles I usually save for Easter dinner.

The house smelled like love. By five o’clock, I was ready. By six, I started to worry.

By seven, I had reheated everything twice. By eight, I stopped checking the window. By nine, I was sitting at the table alone.

The candles had melted halfway down. The food was cold. My lipstick was smudged.

I stared at the empty plates across from me and tried to tell myself maybe something had come up. Maybe they just lost track of time. Maybe the baby had an emergency.

Maybe the car broke down. Maybe the phone died. But I knew.

Nobody was coming. My hand trembled as I lifted the fork. I couldn’t eat much.

The food didn’t taste the same anymore. I took a few bites, then pushed the plate away and rested my elbows on the table. I stared at the birthday card I had bought for myself last week from the dollar store.

It said, You’re still glowing. In pink glitter. I thought it was cute when I saw it.

Now it just felt like a joke. I cried then, not loudly, just quietly. The kind of crying that slips out of you when you’ve been holding it in all day…