I didn"t mind when April twenty-seventh came around and it was a Saturday and my birthday and nobody remembered. I stirred the embers of the fire in the Franklin stove. I"d long since replaced the missing poker with a stick and then a wrought iron beauty. It seemed to me that Mark might come over later. I couldn"t remember if I"d invited him. It wouldn"t be like Annie Hansen to blow her own trumpet like that, inviting a friend on my birthday, but I wasn"t myself lately, did a lot of things I never thought I"d do, and a lot of it had to do with stress. Or wanting things to be different than they"d always been.
Mom would be proud of me, not because of the stress, although she often said stress was good for her, it kept her on her toes. She"d be proud because now I"d accomplished something w
