This is a fictional story I wrote based on Casting Crowns' song "Just Another Birthday," which deals with the importance of a father in a child's life. It will be in four parts, one for each verse/chorus of the song and one for the bridge. Some of the visual I obtained from the music video Casting Crowns posted.

And yes, this is the updated, lengthened version of a story that I posted, then removed, a little while back.

"Amanda! Dinner's ready, sweetheart!"

"Coming, Mom!"

I hurried to shove my clothes into my drawer and smooth out my bed. Mom was picky about keeping the room clean, and I always did my best to please her. I caught a glimpse of a photograph on my dresser before I walked out the door, and paused a moment to pick it up and remember. It was the time that Mom and I had gone to Lake Michigan, just the two of us, and enjoyed a day at the beach. This picture was taken in Chicago in a cheap booth at Navy Pier, both of us with our biggest cheesy grins on, but I couldn't resist a smile as I gazed at it wistfully. That was before—I shook my head. No need to get into painful memories. Mom would be waiting downstairs, and personally I was eager myself to get down there—today was my birthday!

I could smell the hamburgers and hotdogs sizzling from the grill and, with every step I took, my mouth started watering more and more. As I passed through the foyer on my way to the kitchen, taking a moment to glance carelessly at the hall table, I noticed with great surprise a small bouquet of daisies—my favorite flower—sitting there. Brows furrowed, I stuffed my curiosity inside and instead walked into the kitchen, where my mom was pulling out paper plate and utensils.

"So, Mom, who sent the flowers?"

I watched as her shoulders stiffened and her lips pursed. "Amanda," she began, still not looking at me. "Those are from your father."

Now it was my turn to stiffen. My father? Why would he send me flowers? I frowned. "Is he coming to my party today, Mom?"

She sighed and gazed at me with sad, tired eyes. Eyes that had shed too many tears about this situation, without seeing any change. "I don't know, sweetheart. I talked to him a few days ago, and he was going to see if he could arrange his schedule to come."

My temper flared. "Arrange his schedule? Mom! I am not a business meeting! I'm his daughter!" I took two quick steps and palmed the back door open, letting it slam behind me as I sank down onto our patio. The tears threatened to come, but I stifled them, knowing that they wouldn't do any good. I heard the door swing open again, and the gentle footsteps indicated my mom, coming to calm me, coming to make me feel better, coming to make me feel wanted. I scowled. I didn't want to feel better. I just wanted my dad to be here.

"Honey, I understand. I know how important it is for him to be here for you. But it's going to be okay. We'll be fine, right?"

I didn't respond at first, the tears having moved to my throat and stolen my voice. Finally, I managed a nod.

"Okay, then, sweetie. Come on inside, and we'll have dinner. Don't forget, all your friends are going to be here in a half an hour."

"So we've got to put on our best smile and pretend like nothing is wrong," I finished in a bitter tone, and I heard her sigh.

"Amanda, come on in. We can talk about this later, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, but kept my back to her so she wouldn't see. Later. Always later. Never now, when the problem had reared its ugly head. Later would be when we had both calmed down enough to carry on a sensible conversation. And, inevitably, later would be when enough time had passed since the wound had been reopened that neither of us really wanted to talk about it anymore. I let out a deep breath and stood up, plastering a fake smile to my face as I did so. "Okay, Mom. I'm starved. How 'bout some hamburgers?"

A smile flashed across her graceful features, and I knew that she was right. For the moment, we were going to be just fine.

xxxxxxx

"Make a wish, Mandy!"

I grinned as I blew out all the candles on my delicious-looking cake. I knew that Mom had slaved for hours to make it, and every detail was just the way she wanted it. As soon as all the candles were out, my best friend, Kayley, leaned over with a laugh.

"So, Mandy, what'd you wish for?"

My eyes twinkled. "I can't tell. If I did, then it wouldn't come true!"

Several others around the picnic table nodded and laughed, and another girl spoke up. "It's about Derrick, isn't it?" she asked loudly, and the entire group erupted in giggles.

I smiled, too, but I knew that it didn't quite reach my eyes. No. Of course it wasn't about Derrick, even though he was the cutest guy in the neighborhood, and every girl dreamed about him asking them out. But the only guy I wanted in my life right now was the one who wasn't here, but who should be. I was wishing for my daddy to come home.

Glancing over at my mom, I noticed that she was near the patio on the phone with someone, talking animatedly. The conversation didn't seem to be going well, and instinctively I knew that it was my father. My eyes narrowed, but I struggled through keeping up a good front for all my friends from school and church. Vainly looking for something I could fix my eyes on, rather than the conversation that I wanted to watch, I scanned the table, which was loaded with the cake, ice cream, and a dozen or more presents. My gaze locked on the stack of gifts, only to notice that at the top was a small gift, addressed to me from my dad. I sighed, and my vision slid back over to my mom, just in time to see her talk for a moment, then hold the phone out in disgust and glare at it: he had hung up. My face dark, I grabbed the tiny gift he had sent me and stalked over to our porch swing. At first, I didn't even want to open it, but I knew that my curiosity would inevitably get the better of me eventually, so I might as well get it over with now.

Gently, I tore the tissue paper and lifted the top off of the small cardboard box. Inside was a necklace, the pendant of which was a silver cross. I rolled my eyes. Who was he to give me a cross? Like he was some good Christian?

I sat back and frowned, remembering a more innocent time, when he used to swing me up in the air and catch me, holding me tightly in his arms. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days sometimes. But for now, I just had to buck up and keep going. Like Mom always said, I was going to be fine. Just fine.

Thanks for reading! Thoughts? I would love to hear your opinion of it!