Tony’s Birthday
Copyright 2014 Matt Cairone
All Rights Reserved
August 8, 1963
Tony’s Aunt Angie was born in the house on Philadelphia Avenue, and lived there all her life. She took the bus to work every day save for one, Thursday, her day off. Tony and his buddies went to the big house for lunch, 11:30 sharp, every Thursday in the summer.
Today was special. It was Thursday after Tony’s 5th birthday.
Tony and Paul and Kenny and Bonnie gathered on Third Street. The four linked hands. Paul’s mother and Tony’s mother watched them to the end of Third Street, until they disappeared around the corner.
Aunt Angie waited at the end of the drive. She greeted them with hugs and kisses and herded them inside.
They got cowboy hats. The boys got holsters with plastic six shooters; Bonnie got a hoop skirt to tie around her shorts. And they all got plastic guitars, with plastic strings to strum.
Aunt Angie got her camera. She went inside and got Tony’s grandfather, now nearly 90, and sat him on the front porch. All the kids gathered around him with their hats, guns and guitars. He patted each one on the top of the head before he went back inside.
“Grandpa looks tired Aunt Angie.”
“Well, he’s getting old Tony. We all get tired when we get old.”
“I don’t wanna get old then.”
She smiled and patted him on the head.
Tony and his friends were hungry. Because it was his birthday, Tony picked what was for lunch. He chose his favorite thing that Aunt Angie cooked, veal with peppers and onions. He loved it. He swore no on could make it like Aunt Angie. His mother tried, his Aunt Theresa tried, and his Aunt Mary tried. But always, Tony announced their failure to live up to Aunt Angie.
After lunch, they played cowboys and Indians, using the chicken coop and the rows of grapes to hide from each other. They climbed trees to set up ambushes. They imagined hospitals to care for the wounded. All the while, Aunt Angie snapped picture after picture.
A little before 2:00, Tony’s mother and Paul’s mother walked to the big house to fetch the kids home. Today, they stayed for a piece of the birthday cake. While they ate cake, Tony and his friends laid under the red mulberry tree in front of the big house, gazing up through the branches at the bright, blue sky. They were exhausted.
“They all had such a good time.”
“They always do,” Tony’s mom said, flicking ashes on the grass.
“Thanks for having them again, Angelina,” Paul’s mom added.
“Oh, heavens. I love it. I think I enjoy it more than they do.”
“Bye, Aunt Angie.”
They yelled and hollered as they walked home, with cowboy hats, guns, and guitars.
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