happy birthday to me

Medium

Digital

Artist Notes

© 2011 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved ____________________________________________________________________ It had been nearly six months since I’d heard a peep from Gustav, but on the afternoon of April 3, out of the blue came a knock at my door. ____________________________________________________________________ ‘Just a minute,’ I called as I ran a comb through my hair. Upon opening the door, there stood my old friend, looking somewhat older and more tired as he visibly strained to hold a large box that appeared almost too heavy for him to lift. ____________________________________________________________________ ‘Gustav! You’re the last person I expected to see!’ I cried. ‘Come in, come in.’ ____________________________________________________________________ Grunting and wheezing, he stepped inside and placed the box carefully on the coffee table. ____________________________________________________________________ ‘Well, I hope I am not inconveniencing your Sunday,’ he replied grumpily. ‘I thought it was about time to renew our acquaintance, since I have been absent for so long.’ ____________________________________________________________________ ‘You know I’m always happy to see you, my friend,’ I said as I hung up his coat and hat. I eyed the box, knowing by its rectangular shape that it was not a painting he’d lugged up those four long flights to my eyrie. ____________________________________________________________________ Gustav lowered himself onto the couch with visible relief. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I thought we could celebrate your birthday, since it has been so long that was we have seen each other.’ ____________________________________________________________________ ‘Gustav, you’re two months late!’ I smiled impishly, knowing my mention of it would bring forth some fresh and amusing irritation. ____________________________________________________________________ ’Ja, so? Better late than never, as you Amerikaner love to say,’ replied the great man. ‘So – go on, open that damned thing – it nearly cost me my life to haul it up here.’ ____________________________________________________________________ I carefully pried the sturdy lid off the tall box and nearly burst into tears. There, nestled safely inside, was a cake only Gustav could have designed and only a master pastry chef could have decorated. I stood, unable to speak, until Gustav finally boomed, ‘Well, machen Sie den Kaffee – let’s celebrate!’