I skipped inside a large, rather, sketchy building. I was trying to contain my excitement; however I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t known, but I wanted the guests to feel triumphed at me being surprised. Inside was a large freshly cleaned mirror that I couldn’t help but look at myself in. I examined my knotty blonde hair that I forgot to brush out because I was in a rush to get here. I gently finger-combed my hair and I pulled my hair back into a ponytail to keep my hair out of my face. I could imagine everyone’s pulse moving at the same rhythm as I touched the curtains that flowed from the ceiling. I was about to slide the curtain aside when I felt a cool breeze whooshing behind like someone was glaring behind me; however when I turned around, there wasn’t anything. All my surroundings were at a still. The moment I opened the door, I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks and a smile I cannot keep turned around for just a minute. The room was filled with silence for nearly ten seconds. Just as I was about to take a step, the lights flickered on and an abrupt roar screaming ‘Happy Birthday’. I could inhale the aroma of the frosting just glaring at me in the distance; inviting me to blow that candle out already. I felt the soft hands of others gently pressing on my back as photos were being taken, but something was missing, my dad wasn’t here. I wasn’t going to be a brat about it because I understood that it was going to be impossible for him to even come, but I knew he wanted me to be happy on my special day. The bright flashes numbed my vision for a brief moment. I blinked a few more times as my sight was fully returning. I ran my finger across my cake, feeling the pillow like piled up sweetness. It was a neatly designed layer covering the chocolate flour. The frosting was resting on my index finger waiting for me to get a taste. There was a small bit of drool that escaped out of the corners of my mouth. I tasted the sweet vanilla frosting through an explosion in my taste buds. It was rather satisfying. Everything was surreal because I’d never expect having a surprise party. This was the kind of event people would see on TV. It was everything I could ever imagine. Lights of every color were exploring the dance floor and they grew every time the beat dropped. I was enjoying my night like everyone else; I danced, I ate, and I socialized. The many faces of strangers that were guests of my guests greeted me, making me feel like a worthy superstar. I began to notice a dark figure stalking my every move. I was more uncomfortable that he hasn’t shown his face all night than frightened that he follows me. I could feel the sauntering of his feet behind me every time I roamed the venue. Each footstep was muted, yet each step he took I felt my heart pounding harder and harder. I was curious to see who it was. I’ve only been expecting one person to be here and so far he hasn’t shown up. I whirled around and I was disappointed to see that there was no one behind me. I heard my name being called from the speakers. The entire room had gone silent like there was no one even in the room. The crowd cleared the center floor for me like a pathway leading me to whoever was calling me. I noticed people smiling as I tried not to trip over my feet walking down the path, and it made me entirely anxious as to who it was up there. I saw him from afar, but I couldn’t make out who it was. I took a closer look at his face trying to examine any familiar features. His minty eyes like mine sent an electrical shock down to my spine. At an instant I knew automatically who he was. His eyes became a memory book. I couldn’t tell what was behind his back. What was he trying to hide from me? He began to shift his arms and it was sort of hysterical because he looked like he was trying to shimmy. I chuckled to myself, but no one joined me. I knew there was a box in his hand. It could possibly be one of those gag gifts that seems to always make someone’s day brighter. His dimples on both cheeks, the same that I have, appeared magically. Once I knew a hundred percent who it was, I felt tears streaming down my face joyfully. I sprinted towards him; arms open wide, and embraced him. The whiff of his cologne smelled the same from before he left for the Afghanistan. “Dad!”
“Happy Birthday, kiddo.” He held the box right in front of me. As I tugged on the ribbon and I carefully opened the box, there lied a pair of handmade mittens that were polka-dotted. I tried not to choke from crying so hard because he left last winter and he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it on time for my 18th birthday.

“Thanks dad, you shouldn’t have,” I whispered.

“I know it’s nothing extravagant.” He tucked his hands in his pockets.

“It’s perfect,” I cut him off. I immediately embraced him assuring him that it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I could feel his muscles relaxing in relief. “This is the best birthday ever, thanks dad.”

“Not a problem, kiddo.”