Kessa Baylor

A Mother's Gift

A persistent knock at the door stirred me awake. It took nearly a minute for my eyes to focus. My alarm clock read six pm. I almost accomplished my goal of sleeping the day away. It’s my twenty-first birthday, a bittersweet day for a variety of reasons. My mother died five years ago today leaving me with horrible birthday memories and a strong desire to skip the day completely. I pushed my blanket back and went through the ritual of a long stretch, rubbing sleep from my eyelids and sliding into my fuzzy slippers. Half dazed I shuffled to the door to find no one there. Seconds before slamming the door shut my eyes caught a glimpse of a brown box positioned in the center of the doorway.