April 1, 2019
As he staring into the mirror in the bathroom at the Burrow, George thought he had never looked so old in all his life. It was not only the laugh lines around his eyes and the wrinkles around his mouth, nor the grey that had taken over the hair on his head or the gaping hole on the side, but also the almost vacant expression on his face. He heard a knock on the door and turned to face whoever was there.
"Dad?" Roxanne, his teenage daughter who was home from school on her Easter holiday, was standing in the doorway.
"What's up, dear?" He answered, still looking at himself in the mirror.
"Everyone's waiting for you downstairs. They want to start the party."
"Thanks, Roxy, I'll be down in a minute."
"Alright," Roxanne paused for a second, probably wondering what she should say. Someone must have told her what was so different about this time, "and Happy Birthday Daddy."
"Thanks, baby." He said, and she walked back down the stairs.
Shouldn't George be happy today? It was his birthday after all. But as he thought about it, he decided he was way too old. Because at forty-one, he felt he was much too old.
There was more than one hole in his life.
George took a deep breath, and with one last look in the mirror, he walked out of the bathroom and down a flight of stairs and out the door to the garden, where his family was gathered together.
"Happy Birthday, Uncle Georgie." His niece, Dominique, said when she saw he was outside. His mother heard and quickly steered him over to the table where a large cake was placed.
Angelina was by his side, holding his arm tightly. As he went to blow the candles out, everyone pretended not to see the tear that fell down his face.