Epilogue
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June 8th, 2013 Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you Happy birthday dear Morgan Happy birthday to you Mom entered the darkened and streamer-festooned living room carrying a large, brightly-decorated cake. She placed it on the table in front of me and I found myself entranced by the twisting flames on the nine candles. �Blow Morgan!� Dad urged. Ever obedient (not), I drew a deep breath into lungs expanded by the rigour of the synchronized swimming I had taken up. The candles sputtered, and quickly extinguished. The cake was delicious, an unusual occurrence due to the fact that Mom had spent her childhood learning to skate rather than learning to cook. It was a light-hearted celebration and teasing comments abounded. The closeness of my little family was marked by the lowering of the masks that we habitually wore in public. I considered myself lucky that the three of us were able to spend my entire birthday together. Between Mom and Dad�s coaching schedules and my swimming/school, we rarely had an evenings reprieve. By the time the cake had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, I was beginning to grow impatient. When Mom asked if I wanted to play a game, the already tightly strung cord snapped. I couldn�t wait any longer. �No,� I replied with a theatrical pout. A playfully dramatic air swept over me and I proclaimed in a fake British accent, �I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. I believe it is high time that I am presented with my birthday gifts.� �Yes, your Royal Highness,� Dad mocked, sweeping an elaborate bow marred only by his infectious laughter. Mom led me into the living room and pointed at a pile of brightly wrapped packages in a corner, �There are nine presents, one for every year.� I grinned and launched myself at the gifts, tearing the wrapping off in record time. �Clothes, movie, book, bathing suit, MP4 player,� I sang, �Gameboy, jewelery box, and� a key? �We wanted you to be able to get in and out of the cottage on your own so you could enjoy a swim at any hour.� �We have a cottage?� I squealed happily. �Yup. In the Shushwap. That�s in British Colombia. The cottage will be perfect for summers away from Vancouver.� Dad was speaking in circles once again. With each answer, he presented me with yet another question. He knew that the habit infuriated me, and I firmly believed that he did it just for that reason. �Sweetie, we�ve been offered jobs coaching at a club in Vancouver� You don�t mind moving to Canada so very much, do you?� "Yes I do!" "A lot of the houses there have pools in the backyard... We could look for one like that." "You know, I�ve always been Canadian at heart! Besides, they come out with some great swimmers.� I turned my attention back to my presents. I recounted, thinking I had made a mistake. �That�s only eight!� I accused. �Didn�t you say there were nine?� Daddy took Mommy�s hand and the two seated themselves on the sofa. �Here Munchkin,� Mom instructed, patting her lap. After I had complied by curling myself up between my parents, she continued, �We felt bad that you wouldn�t be seeing Anna anymore. She�s been like a sister to you and we know that will change when we move. We were going to buy you a puppy, but then I remembered how bitterly you disliked being the baby of the family. Would you like to be the elder sibling for a change?� I remained stock still as the meaning sank in, �Are you saying,� I began slowly and quietly, attempting to keep a lid on my excitement but being unsuccessful, �You�re� you�re pregnant?� Mommy nodded. �Is it a boy or a girl? What are you going to name it?� �We�re not sure yet. As for a name, we were hoping to get your advice on that Munchkin.� Dad answered. �Are you sure it�s his baby?� I quipped. Mom blushed bright red, nodded, and muttered something inaudibly. Dad reached out and tweaked my nose. �You�re growing up so fast� Losing your innocence�� �Innocence!� Mom exclaimed, �You�ve got to be kidding me! She�s been a little heathen from the day she was born!� �Oh, well,� I sighed, �No one can be perfect. Now, on a different note, I was wondering� As nice as a younger sibling is, I don�t think it counts as a birthday present.� My eyes twinkled mischievously, �Can I still have a puppy?� �Do you think we should?� Mom question Dad. �Oh yes, indubitably,� He replied earnestly. I was starting to get very nervous and decided that now might be a good time to make a quick escape. I darted away milliseconds before my parents shouted, �Get her!� in unison. I circled the living room twice, but in the end, greater numbers prevailed over speed and intelligence. I was backed into a corner and Dad held my arms above my head while my supposedly loving mother tickled me mercilessly. I squirmed and wriggled but to no avail. Finally, I was left with no choice. �Compromise,� I panted, breathless from laughing. �Maybe,� Mom answered, halting the path her fingers were tracing though Dad was smart enough to maintain his grip. �A baby sister would be wonderful � all the present I need- but if it�s a boy, I still get the dog.� They considered long and hard. �Alright,� Dad conceded, �It�s a deal.� I was released, and without his strong hold collapsed on the floor. I glanced up at the two faces peering down at me: Dad, with his sweetly whimsical smile, and Mom, her face flushed, her hair in disarray, and her eyes dancing. This was my family, and it was the best present any girl could ask for.
