Agatha’s house was full. Four children, nine grandchildren and five great-grandchildren were gathered for her 81st birthday. She loved seeing them all and hearing their stories.

“Gran-gran-mama,” Edward was telling her, “I’m going to school this fall. I’ll have to wake up early and do homework every day. It is hard growing up. I wish I was a baby like Zachary and played all day!”
Agatha smiled and caressed his chubby cheek.

“Happy birthday, Grandma!” Emma gave her a hug. “You’re 81, and I’ll be 18! How funny! I’ll tell you what’s not funny: a year full of tests and college applications. Ugh, not easy, I wish I was a kid again.”
Agatha hugged her back, when Joelle pulled her to the side.

“Grandma, how old were you when you got married, 16? I waited to finish college to get married and have a baby. Nick is a great husband and Sam the happiest baby, but all my friends party and travel while I worry about mortgage and diapers. It’s like I threw my youth away. Sometimes I wish I had those carefree years back.”
Agatha didn’t have time to reply.

“Ma, you look so good!” John interrupted. “You don’t look one year over 80! And so nice to have all these young people around. Wish I was still like them!”

Marlene put an arm around Agatha’s shoulders and sighed, “Why does life go so fast, Mom?”
“To force us to appreciate it, dear.”

Candles were blown, gifts unwrapped, stories told. One by one, the guests said good-bye. Alone again, she went in the garden and sat on the bench next to her favorite lilac shrub. Its white flowers were almost all faded, but a few remained and still imparted their sweet fragrance. That fragrance spoke to Agatha of youth and innocence, of bold dreams and unquestioned faith. On her lap, she had a flyer from that morning’s mail: “Catharine’s Dance Studio – Grand Opening – All Invited!”

Agatha closed her eyes and inhaled the lilac’s delightful scent. A young 80-years-old could do anything she wanted. Tomorrow, she will dance.

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Dalia Grigorescu