I Couldn't Bake Your Cake Today

I couldn't bake your cake today. You know the one. You could smell that tuna and those treats no matter where I tried to hide it. We got it down to a science, didn't we kid.. All those times you even sat on my head to try to reach the bowl when I wouldn't let you sneak a taste.. I don't make it any more.

I couldn't make the bike ride today. You know the one. When I'd put the birthday banner on the bike and all of the crepe paper streamers. Then we'd ride all over the neighborhood, you sitting so proud in your decorated basket. We'd pass by Mrs. Anderson's, Charlie's, Cindy's, all of your friend's apartments that were on your daily rounds. They'd all tell you Happy Birthday and give you treats. I sold the bike a few months ago. I never rode it any more.

I couldn't sing your song today. You know the one. The one where I'd just keep it up until you finally ran from the room to get away from my awful voice. The one I sang to you for nine years on this day. I don't sing any more.

I couldn't make the trip to the ice cream Shoppe today. You know the trip. The one where we went every birthday, even though we went every Friday night. You would always get a free extra scoop in your cup on your birthday. I don't eat ice cream any more.

I couldn't play the game today. You know the one. When I would tie long ribbons to your new toys and hide them with the ribbons showing so you could find them. I would laugh so hard when you'd leave one and scamper off to find another one. I don't laugh much any more.

I couldn't go to work today. I always took off work on this day, so we could spend it together. I cried too hard today. I thought I couldn't cry any more.

I couldn't make your cake today.